The sun is out today. It's warm and there's a slight breeze in the air. I've been fucking you now for nearly a year and this is the first time we've ever gone out anywhere in public together without the intention of fucking. We're sitting in the nosebleed section of the baseball stadium. It's the 6th inning and your team is down by 2 runs. Lots of time to come back you tell me. I'm dreadfully bored. I wouldn't be sitting here torturing myself through this experience for any other person. I believe you when you tell me there's plenty of time left. The game is dragging by. I try to pass the time people watching but we're not exactly surrounded by hoards of people where you've sat us. In fact, the nearest people are six rows down from us, to our left. You told me we'd have a better chance of catching a ball if we were singled out. That would be true if we didn't have to watch the players from the jumbo-tron. I have a secret suspicion that we're really in these seats because they were cheapest. All the same, it doesn't matter. What matters is I'm here with you.
You look adorable in your baseball jersey and your cap, I have to admit. And you're wearing my favourite pair of jeans so that doesn't hurt. On the way in you bought me one of those silly foam fingers and we stocked up on all sorts of food at the concession stands too. You suddenly stand up in outrage, screaming obscenities at the umpire (as though he could hear you from here) as one of your players slides into home and is called out. How you can tell from here that the ump made a bad decision, I'll never know. Maybe you're just defending your team regardless of their actions. It must be a guy thing. Either way, it works out to my benefit because when you stand up I get a nice view of your rock hard ass in those jeans. And I could be wrong but I think if I look closely enough from the right angle, I can see your balls moving around too.
I wait patiently for you to calm down and sit back in your seat. I'm laughing at you a little as you frustratingly toss your cap on the seat next to you, still muttering. You catch my gaze and huff out a resigned sigh, squeezing my knee and giving me a tight smile. I beam back in your direction and watch you struggle not to laugh with me. You break and look the other way, covering your mouth with a fist, as though that conceals it. I take in your handsome profile, skimming my gaze all the way down your body. You really do look cute. I linger on your lap, imagining what lies beneath those jeans. I bite my lip contemplating it.
You've settled back in and once again, you're intent on the game but now I'm intent on you. I know we were supposed to be on a real date today but I'm starting to feel the familiar tug of desire. We've never fooled around out the the broad daylight, in public before. I wonder if the thought has crossed your mind. I turn back to the game trying to forget about it but every time you shift in your seat my peripheral vision catches the movement and I'm finding it hard to concentrate on anything else. I might have stood a fighting chance if I gave any care to whether or not the guys in red and white beat our guys out, but I just don't. In fact, I'm not even sure what's going on and that makes you way more interesting. I understand a lot about you.
I decide to test the waters. I nonchalantly reach across you pretending I want Crackerjacks. I do it smoothly enough, only brushing you with my shoulder but then I fumble them and the box falls to the floor. They've landed by your right foot, but almost under the seat; perfect aim. Before you can tear yourself away from the game and retrieve them for me, I spring into action. Bracing myself with one hand on your left knee, I reach down between your legs to pick up the wayward candy. I take care to let my elbow brush your crotch as it passes. On the way back up, I reverse the motion with a little more force, and I can tell you've straightened up just a little. I can feel you looking at me too. Just before my arm breaks contact with the denim, I hear you breathe one breath just a little deeper.
Smiling I shake the Crackerjacks box, "rescued!"
You're looking at me funny. "What," I ask, the picture of innocence.
You shake your head, "nothing, I just thought for a second..."your voice trails off.
"You thought," I repeat back in another question, letting it trail off.
"Nothing," you repeat, "not important."
I open the Crackerjacks and pop one in my mouth, turning back to the game. I feel sly. I know you must be thinking about a little more than just baseball today if it was that easy to affect you. I wait a few minutes and then casually lean over and put my head on your shoulder. Out of habit you slouch down a little toward me, allowing for comfort. I link my right arm around your left and place my right hand on your thigh. I love the feeling of your muscular thighs under my palm. Slowly I edge my fingers further and further to the inside of your leg. I turn toward you and tilt my head into your neck, just below your ear. I'm hardly breathing as I lightly kiss your neck, just once. I hear your stilted intake of air. My fingers are still creeping their way toward your crotch.
Without moving you ask, "what are you doing?" followed by, "we're here to watch the game."
I know you're not really annoyed that much because when I glance down I can already tell you're getting hard. "I know," I say sweetly, "you watch the game all you want, I just want to play a little game too."
By now I have found my way to the sweet inner sanctum of your legs. You have a wonderful cock and today it's resting in the perfect spot, running down along your inner left thigh. I rub it lightly through the fabric of your jeans and watch it start to expand before my eyes. Fully erect, you have one of the most beautiful cocks I've ever experienced. It's just a little more than average length but thick in girth, with only a slight upward curve and a lovely mushroom cap. The first time I ever took it in my mouth I had a hard time stretching my lips around it.
For a few moments you indulge me but before too long, you tell me I need to behave myself and gently nudge me away, except you can't quite keep the corners of your mouth from turning upwards. I ignore your pretend discouragement but sit back in my seat, using my right hand now to stroke from the seam of your crotch across the entire length of your cock. It's no longer in my view but as I run my palm back and forth over the top of it I close my eyes and imagine it getting more and more excited as you do. It's quite hard under my hand now and easily defined. I imagine the silhouette it is creating under your pants right now; the dip between the shaft and your balls, the ridge under the cap and the soft peak of the tip before the smoothness of your thigh.
I glance down so I can see it. I can't help but rub a little harder and a little quicker as I do so. I never really realized before what a turn on it was to see you fully clothed and turned on, even more so while I'm stroking you. I bite back another grin, breathing a little deeper myself. I can feel my own panties starting to dampen as my vagina tightens. I look into your face, still in profile and see that you are no longer watching the game. Your eyes are shut. I reach across with my free left hand and take your right hand in it. Without losing pace I place your hand at the base of your cock and motion you to start with me. You easily join and I remove my own hands. I want to watch you stroking yourself over top of your jeans, and the cotton boxers I know you're wearing.
I'm nearly drooling at the sight of the bulge beneath your pants now. I've started rocking in my seat, pushing my hips forward and clenching my ass together, letting my pussy get a little stimulation from the movement. I refuse to touch myself, I don't want any distractions from your show. You are now moaning and grunting just a little under your breath. Your thumb and fingers expertly running up and down your length, no longer just rubbing the top of your cock but now jerking off. A small spot of pre-cum appears half-way down your thigh where the head of your penis lies as you pull upward. I've never seen anything quite as sexy before. I want more.
But then suddenly you stop. You take a deep breath in through your nose, licking your lips. You wipe the palms of your hands (sweaty I guess)on either one of your knees.
"I can't keep this up Babe," you say, looking at me, "I'll cum if I do."
"What's wrong with that," I ask, a little pout in my voice.
"You want me to whip it out right here for you?" You have a sarcastic edge to your voice.
"No, I suppose not," I shrug, sitting back. I don't plan to give up but I can wait a minute, until I think up a plan. The heat between my own legs is almost uncomfortable now. I can't help but discreetly run a fingertip along my own denim inseam. It's damp. Without giving it much thought, I sniff the musty aroma after. Out of the corner of my eye, I see you watching me. I turn toward you, a soft smile on my face. You lower your gaze back toward your cock. Suddenly I don't need a plan, I've inadvertently changed your mind. I can see your cock pulsing now.
You reach down to undo your belt, or maybe your zipper, but I stop you. Without a single word, I press my fingertip into the wet spot your pre-cum left and lift it to my lips. Then I begin stroking you through your jeans again. You seem a little confused but in too much pleasure to argue you lean back and let me have my way. You likely think I'll free you from your confines soon enough. You're very wrong.
I increase my pressure and speed simultaneously. Your hips have begun to rock now too and your jaw twitches with increased pleasure. I lean forward for a better angle and grip your balls, squeezing them gently and rolling them in my grasp. You let out a very audible grunt as I do so. In my excitement, I push further. I have to switch seats to the far side of you so I can undo your fly and reach inside your pants. My fingers are met with the soft, warm fabric of your cotton boxers. They feel a little damp with heat. Now I can watch as my whole hand grasps your cock from beneath the confines of your jeans and continues jerking you off. My fist pumps away and every so often I pull back on the stroke, rubbing the head of your cock against your jeans and pulling the cotton fabric tight over top. It's melodic to hear your groan of pleasure each time.
My pussy is pulsating with excitement now. I have to cross my legs just to keep in check. The rest of the ballpark and the game itself have become background music. Another spot of pre-cum works it's way through the denim. I lick my lips. Then your hand is on my wrist, and you're begging me to stop and pull you from your entrapment. You want me to suck you off.
Normally I would love to put your rock-hard, juicy cock in my waiting mouth but today feels different. For some reason I have a desperate need to see you shoot your load right here in the stands, in your pants. I want to push you until you can take no more and watch your cum shoot out through the fabric of your boxers and seep its way down your pant leg. I've never felt an urge like this before but the desire for it is unmistakeable and overwhelming.
"I can't suck you today, Babe," I say, somewhat breathless, "I want to watch it."
"Okay," you sound a little desperate yourself, "okay! Just pull it out and you can see all of it. I'm going to cum just for you...God Babe, I'm going to cum!"
I bite my lip harder. If I wasn't so incredibly turned on at the thought of seeing that giant wet spot on your leg, I'd follow your request but something in me just can't obey. I ignore your pleading.
"Do you like how the fabric feels?" I ask. "Is it good?"
"Oh God, it's fucking awesome," you breath, squeezing your eyes shut tight, wincing against the urge to let go.
"How good is it?" I ask, prodding you.
"It's the best damn thing I've ever felt," you pant, "I can't tell you. It feels so good with you jerking me off."
"Good," I try to sound reassuring, "because I'm not going to pull it out Babe."
I watch your reaction. You're right on the brink now. Your grasping the arm of your seat with one hand, your other clutching the middle of your shirt. Your hips are now squirming wildly in your chair and your head is leaned right back but a look of panic crosses your face as you hear my words.
You can hardly look in my direction but in between breaths you open your eyes and glance toward me.
"What are you talking about? I need you to pull it out. I'm going to cum!" You're struggling to keep your voice low. Even as you say the words, you're reaching for your belt.
I use my free hand to stop you, placing it over top of the one working on your belt. You keep working for a moment but you're so close to orgasm now that it's difficult for you to concentrate and you give up without a fight.
"shh," I murmur, "isn't that cotton nice? I can tell you have a big load in there for me."
"I do," you grunt.
"I want to see it Babe," I say, "I want to watch you soak those jeans in cum for me." I'm now stroking you with my right hand and simultaneously rubbing my own crotch lightly with my left. I've never been more grateful to be in the nose bleed section.
I continue rubbing your shaft, sliding your cotton boxers up and down. I can feel the heat from the friction and use my free hand to gently pull down on your balls again from outside your jeans. You grunt again. I can tell your close, I can feel the veins of your cock pulsing beneath my fingers and the skin is so tight now. I stroke as fast and hard as I can, listening for your reactions. Your breathing is increasing. You can't sit still at all anymore. With one final stroke, I pull down again on your balls and stroke forward, pressing the head of your cock tightly into the cotton of your boxers, and consequently also into the stiffer fabric of your jeans. That is all it takes.
In a wild eruption you lurch forward, your cum shooting out, not just soaking through your boxers and jeans but bursting through before weeping into a dark circle. I stroke gently while you empty your load right into your pants. I can feel my own juices dripping slightly down my inner thigh. I've never been so turned on in my life. You cum in three large spurts. Both an impressive and obvious amount. When I have finished milking it from you I slowly remove my hand. You are breathless when you lean back. Your legs are spread and you turn your face lazily toward me.
I wait for you to say something but words are still beyond you. I have the urge to celebrate what you've done, so I lean forward, sticking my fingers in the wettest spot, right where your semen first appeared, and where it maintains it's thick, creamy white. I scoop the blob up with two fingers and place them in my mouth.
Your gaze travels to where they were on your jeans. You look satisfied as you feel the wetness with your own fingers. Your face lulls back towards mine. I smile, I can't help it. The loudspeaker blares music as the innings change over. Somehow the 6th inning seemed to fly by.
"You were right," I giggle.
"It was easier to catch balls up here," I laugh.