Lifting his eyes, Lasso stopped cold. Before him, a young man was laying flat – on his regular park bench. It was midday in Seattle, more specifically, midday above, and south of Seattle. This bench was set on a hill, high above the city. From here, both stadiums could be seen, as well as the Columbia Center – but not the Space Needle. The Needle was too far north.
On the bench laid a man who looked to be in his early twenties. He was dressed in dirty steel-toed boots, dingy jeans, and a gray long-sleeved sweatshirt. On his head, the man had a black beanie-hat pulled down over his eyes and nose, leaving only his lips and clean-shaven chin exposed. His skin was dark, with an olive tone.
Italian? – Lasso wondered as he approached.
As lasso got close enough to see over the back of the bench, he spied the man’s noticeably veiny hands at his own crotch. Out of the zipper-hole of the dirty jeans rose the most spectacular erection. Olive in color, like the man’s chin, the cock was similar to a perfectly vertical tower – with rays of sunshine, mixed with moving shade, washing over it.
The man’s scrotum was still hidden in his trousers, but this enormous cock was fully outdoors. Although aroused, the man wasn’t stroking. Instead, he was pressing hard on each side of his open zipper – on each side of his cock. As his muscular hands continued to push down, his bulbous cockhead appeared to swell by the second. At the base, the man was putting so much pressure on his groin, the girth of his olive shaft swelled like a football.
What is this about? – Lasso asked himself. He wasn’t exactly sure, but he knew that he liked it.
Lasso was an old gooner from Capital Hill. He used to jerk off in the street during Pride events. Clothed women walking through the crowd would pose for photos with his hard cock. During that time, his balls garnered eight golden rings which pushed his sac tight – down four inches from the base of his throbbing fuckstick. Back then, he’d walk around all day with a fucking super-hard erection, wearing nothing but flip-flops. Releasing his scrotum from the rings at night, his cock would almost sigh in relief – becoming flaccid for the first time since breakfast. The hours of unrelenting pressure kept Lasso sore, but the next day, he was out in the streets gooning all over again.
Now, he’s here, observing a man put the same immense amount of pressure on his own cock. So beautiful.
From his approaching foot-fall, Lasso knew the man was aware of his presence. Without reaction, the man continued to make his cock swell. Lasso moved around to the front of the bench, looked out over the great expanse, dropped his trousers – and sat down.
****************************************************************
Hope you enjoyed the read. Please comment and follow.
Many thanks! – Lawrence
Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/n5bqe2/lassos_bench_lassom50_strangerm23