Franklin dug his hands into his pants. After a moment of searching, his pale white penis flopped out into the evening shadow. He felt the cool February air wash over it. His hand immediately started pulling and, what was once soft and squishy, soon grew fat and rigid.
He watched the couple on the picnic table. They were busy with each other and didn't notice the middle-aged stranger sitting atop his own picnic table on the other side of a cluster of desert hackberry bushes. He could hear their moans, the high-pitched hisses of pleasure from the woman, and see the man's long erection in her hand.
The couple were fully clothed so far as Franklin could see. The woman wore a green dress made of a silky material. With the way she treated it, sitting with her legs spread on the cold concrete table top, he doubted the dress was made of real silk. The man, wearing a light-colored pair of corduroy pants and an over-sized blue flannel shirt, leaned down slightly to put his fingers against her bare pussy. Typical to the cliché of February fourteenth, a box of chocolates and a red rose lay on the table beside the couple.
Franklin pulled on his cock, imagining it was his manhood she hungrily wrapped her mouth around. The man had a longer cock than his own, but Franklin had girth on the stranger. He wondered if she'd be able to fit his plump dick in her tiny little mouth. She swallowed her sweetheart's penis like a pro, opening her mouth wider and wider to fit him down her throat. Franklin closed his eyes and began to jerk faster.
He could hear the cawing of a crow in the distance. Somewhere, down in the community of Sedona, he heard a car horn honk. Otherwise, the three had the popular red rock hiking area all to themselves. With his eyes closed, Franklin honed in on the sound of the woman's slurps. She moaned occasionally, but the sound was muffled and quiet, more like a subservient whimper. The wet slurp of cock sucking followed soon after.
Opening his eyes, Franklin saw the long shaft of his cock moving in and out of the woman's mouth. His pants were now at his knees and the woman had placed both hands on his wide, round ass, pulling him closer to her eager face. He remained bent slightly, keeping his right hand between her spread legs. The woman had muscular thighs, golden skin, and well-formed calf muscles. She was obviously an athlete of some kind, Franklin thought to himself.
Every once in a while the woman would pause, gasping for air around his rock solid cock, as his fingers touched a particularly acute area rimming her dripping hole.
Somewhere nearby came the sounds of a snapping twig. The couple, and Franklin as well, looked to the north. The sky grew darker by the second and it was harder to see in the distance than it had been only minutes before. Franklin heard the man speak quietly.
"I don't think it's anything," he whispered. "Probably a bunny."
"Or another couple looking for a memorable place to hump for Valentine's Day," the woman replied, with her man's cock now hovering close to her lips. Her hand remained on his shaft, masturbating him slowly, while she stared off into the bushes.
The man sighed, mumbling. "I was close too."
"Not yet," she answered. The woman flopped over on the table. Once on her hands and knees, she pulled her fake silk dress to her waist and thrust her round, tanned ass toward him The slit of her shaved, swollen pussy lay bare.
The man climbed to the table, jerking himself hard again, and quickly rammed his rod beneath her ass. The woman inhaled sharply, her long brown hair hanging over her face. Through it, Franklin could just make out a smile on her thin lips. The man's body slapped against her ass. He pounded her hard. The table top rocked with their movements. The woman growled. Her fingers clawed at the hard table top as if she had claws.
Franklin couldn't take it any longer. With one final yank, gathering his foreskin at his balls, his tip reddened and a geyser shot forth. Spasms wracked his body as jet after jet of cum blubbered from his cock and splattered over his clothes, with some landing on the table top and plopping to the dusty red earth below. What collected on his hands, he licked off. Franklin had no qualms about tasting his own spunk. He'd swallowed his share of loads in his time, but he preferred women. Like the one whose ass quivered with lust on the other side of the hackberry bush.
When Franklin finished licking the juices from his hand, he resumed his stakeout. The man was standing perfectly erect. The woman returned to her sitting position. Her lips kissed and pressed against his dick as his own cum splattered her cheeks and forehead. She hungrily licked as much of it as she could get her tongue over. It covered her cheeks like glaze over a donut. White gobs hung from her petite lower lip. To Franklin, that was an image worth masturbating over for months to come.
"Happy Valentine's Day, sweetheart," the man whispered, nuzzling his cheek against hers. The woman sighed happily as Franklin slipped his sticky penis back into his pants. Here come the standard bouts of pillow talk, he thought to himself, amused.
"Same to you, darling," she replied.
Franklin laughed then, but quickly covered his mouth with his hand, shocked at his own stupidity. He could hear the couple struggling to arrange their disheveled clothes. The woman cursed.
Franklin ran away.