The Public Wank
By
Timothy Stillman
I'd always heard about it. Wanking in public. When I was a young kid I would occasionally go outside late at night, stand on the porch, walk down to the sidewalk in my hard. Stand there, naked, Trembling, scared, put my penis in my hand and wag it at the world, saying, to myself, see? I really do have one too. Till I ran back in the house on my thin shanks. Closing the front door on my naked butt. Lean against it, panting, scared to death someone saw me. Sometimes I could do all of this in, my longest record, and five seconds. Believe it, for a wuss like me, that was a big deal.
Sometimes I would dream, often times actually, I was bare in the out of doors, at night, and I had to get home safely, without anyone seeing me. I hid behind cars. Bushes. Trees. Dared the moon to expose my front and back as I barefooted it across streets to home. No one ever saw. Not even in my dreams.
My junior year in university, one lazy summer afternoon, when most everyone was at home, but me, always industrious, going to classes year round. So, I was sitting on the second floor of the campus library, in the too hot study cubicle, three sides of which were glass to three forths of the way down; the rest being wood paneled; reading Shakespeare, because I had do; I shall tell you now I hated Shakespeare; therefore, my mind drifting here and there, no one on the first floor, or here, on the second; a skeletal library staff--no not that kind of skeletal--boo--and no one up here at all, I decided to make a careful search of the second floor, to see if no one was still there, for I had decided to wank in public. This was as gutsy as I was likely to get.
I was never one of those guys who could get a hard on in public. I never had the problem of having one just as I was called to the blackboard in class. I was always too scared to think about sex. Oh I ran home every day after school, or biked, or later drove, and had off like crazy when by myself. But in school? Never. So I thought about it for a good long while. I sat there at the table with my books and papers and notebooks before me. I considered. I began to perspire. I decided, yes. I was a man now. And I deserved to see what this admittedly cowardly way of doing it was like. I owed it to that kid, me, back there.
So I on wavy legs went in search of emptiness on the second floor. Even walked down the blue-carpeted stairs under the bright sunlight coming in from the window above the stairs. One librarian. That was it. No students. So I went back to my cubicle, after checking the three others. And sat down again. I had to decide if I was to unzip or masturbate with my hand underneath my jeans, that way. I thought that was the safest. I tried not to think of the danger of being found out. I placed my hand on my big white belt buckle, and slipped the first two fingers of my left hand, just a few inches into my jeans. I felt my stomach and my navel. And the heat. And the me.
I never seemed to be me in public. I mean, it occurred to me now, I never seemed to have a body in public; I was my clothes and I was my face and hands. But feeling my stomach, going a little bit further with more of my fingers and down a little deeper to touch the beginning of my pubic hair. I felt--sad. I felt like I did when I saw the first naked scene in a film, in a theatre. I did not know there would be one, and when there was, I felt that was all there was to me, this man on the screen. That was the whole of the mystery. I had somehow been unclothed myself in a very real way. I was not embarrassed. Just disillusioned.
But now as I felt my pubic hair, a nice little patch of it, slightly wiry, and then I felt the tip of my shrunken penis, I felt happier again. I felt as though I could do this, as I looked out the glass and I saw only the shelves with their books and I stroked the tip of my glans. To my bevis delight, I felt it erecting. I wore no underwear during this period of my life. I felt not doing that went with my long hair and scrawny body, thus making me a hippie for real. I leaned back a bit in my chair and I pulled on my penis with my fingers and stroked my pubic hair. I felt my penis harden. I looked down at my jeans crotch, and after a time, I could see its outline inside.
That seemed very sexy to me.
I for the first time in my life was horny in a public place. I was thinking of no one in particular, as I closed my eyes and massaged my six inch hard on. I touched my very now hot balls. I perspired more. Fear. The heat. Exertion. I licked my lips with my tongue tip. I had always wanted to do that in public too, and there were some students here I had wanted to take to bed with me, but everyone if they thought anything of me at all, considered me sexless as well as personless. But mostly I was in this situation and the carpeting was blue, and the room smelled of fresh wood, for this was a recently built library; there were books here that were friends; I had always thought of books as friends; libraries were nice to me always, except when I had to do school work in them; and I was feeling that tingle at the tip of the head of my penis.
I squeezed my balls. I touched my blue shirt and found my tits hard. I wanted to take off all my clothes to do this, but of course that would have been insane. I wanted to unzip to do it. But this was enough for me. I stroked my penis. I felt its bumpy undershaft. I felt my balls tighten into my groin. I felt above all else, sexy as hell. I leaned my head back. I let my hair fall over and down to my mid back. I sighed slowly softly once twice. And I had my legs spread. I was masturbating faster now. I felt so good. Like I was in a friendly warm bath. With a good friend. I had no friends then. Good or not. I thought a wank in public was something I had long since bought the right to.
My hands were shaking. I was feeling my chest and tits with my right hand. My left was having a party in my jeans with my penis. I had not thought of when I came and the ejaculate came out, that squishy walk back to the dorm to change. Sometimes I came a lot. On occasion two Kleenexes were necessary. I guess that was a lot. I had never known about anybody but me. Maybe it was not at all. But at the moment I didn't care. It just felt so good. And I was so abandoned. I felt sluttish and whorish, and for a shy good nice boy, that was a welcomed departure.
And I rubbed my penis on the inside of my jeans, on the back pleat of the zipper and held it out through the jeans material, suck me you mothers, suck me now, I command it. It was fun having it corralled in there. Nobody knowing what had occurred today in this chair in this room in this library this moment. And I was cumming and this was going to be one almighty cum, and this was the best feeling in the universe. There was the secretiveness of it, but the secretiveness of it in your face, and there is nothing you can do about it, so if you don't like it, and I was cumming and I held the tip, and it went gulping down the shaft a little, oh come on cum, you know I'm just teasing you. And making your and my pleasure last. Wish I had brought some Kleenex with me.
And now its bubbling up and my eyes are closed and I'm panting and my shirt and jeans are soaked with sweat and my hair too, and I'm bucking up and down in the chair like I'm riding a prize stallion, which of course would be me, and I'm spreading my legs out further even than before, and I rush my cum out of my dick and I open my eyes, not focused just yet, as spasms of orgasm hit me waves after waves--it has never been this great before--a child hood dream come true, daring the odds...and my eyes focus as my penis shoots again and again just galloping and gulping out cum and my tits hurt I've made them so tight and pinched them so hard. My cheek butts even hurt, I've exerted all the equipment down there so much, so I focus, opening my eyes wider to enjoy it, my little wonderful giggly rebellion, bout time don't you think?....
And...
Remember a movie called, I think, "Valley Girls"? Not sure of the title. But it was made in the eighties. The world gets nuked. And only Valley Girls are left. With those accents and that moronic word thing they had, made me want to push their heads through car windshield. Eeecccchhh. The film is lame, except for the ending. There is no one left in the world, so some of these girls cross the street against the green light, just as a man in a sports car drives up the street, almost hits them, no one else in the world remember, and the girls have to rush out of his way. Hit them please I thought do all of us this favor. But he did the next best thing. He said, "girls, always cross with the light; you never know when a car is coming." Then he zooms off.
Okay you know by now, or more likely way before. I telegraph these things often. I should get a job at Western Union. Anyways, as you know, I'm shooting inside my jeans, all over the place, my penis, my balls my thighs, my stomach, just ka foom, while two students in this formerly empty building of students, during summer classes, the campus almost empty, are standing there looking at my gyrations. You would have to be a cauliflower or George Bush not to figure out what I was doing. A boy and a girl. Looking at me--most most oddly. I had never seen them before. I never saw them again. Thank God. Maybe they switched universities. But they were seeing me for who knows how long and now in the last throes. I could do nothing but let it happen.
They didn't look at each other. They just had their eyes riveted on me. So of course wet and soaked down there with my penis going bye bye maybe for the duration, I picked up my Shakespeare book and pretended to take some notes. When I looked up, they had gone. I kept expecting to be visited by the campus police. Or called to the Dean's office. Or had this spread around the whole school. Nothing happened. I never did it again. You will find me the most careful masturbator you have ever known in your life, after this. No more dreams of being bare out there. No thank you very much. Not for me. Nowhere. Nohow.
So I squished out of the room. No one in the library again. I held my books in front of my crotch, to the side a bit, squished down the stairs. Saw no one at all there. Or on the campus or in the dorm as I squished in my room and closed the door. Then I went to clean up. And sat on my bed afterwards, wondering what to do next.
So, there it is. I wonder if the boy and girl had a thought of me that night when they went at it. Or a laugh. Or was the whole thing of it so bloody weird, they would never speak of it to each other and certainly not others, for they might be thought mad. Just one of those creepy moments in their lives that they hope will go away one day but never shall. All sorts of possibilities. Laugh if you must. But it was a daring time for me.
So color me blush red with a hint of mint and a soupcon of glitter and a fond good night.