Picnicking
“We’re quite far away from the footpath here, shall we sit?”
“Sounds good, I’m hungry!”
And with that, he laid back flat against the soft, green grass. It had been a wonderful lunchtime, just the two of us strolling around town and enjoying the delights that the historic area had to offer. It was his idea to grab bits and pieces for a quick picnic, a suggestion I happily jumped on. I wondered if he’d guess why I suggested that particular picnic area, a 70-hectare heritage park that was wide-open and large enough that we could probably get away with most things if we were discreet. No one was paying much attention to us anyway, just two lovebirds enjoying a lunchtime picnic of sandwich meal deals, laughing and joking and occasionally touching each other on the arm in light and flirty ways. But we weren’t lovebirds; we were just work colleagues. Work colleagues that were about to indulge their naughty, voyeuristic sides … except only one of us knew about it.
I positioned myself on the grass next to him as my hand strayed to tackle his belt, a difficult task with one arm propping me up and my fingers shaking a little from the thrill of possibly getting caught by one of the many lunchtime sun-catchers around us.
“What are you doing …,” he started to say, batting my hand away, but with only a fraction of the force that he could’ve used, if he’d really meant it. Instead of replying, I simply carried on doing what I was doing, first managing to finally unbuckle his belt, then un-popping the four buttons of his jeans, then lowering the front of his boxers just enough to allow his cock to fall out into my hand.
“Ohhhh. Fuck. Really?” He asked, half-smiling, half-looking around to make sure no one was in ear or eye-shot.
His cock was only just started to harden, so I lowered my head and opened my lips in response to his question, inviting him into the warmth of my mouth to get him fully erect and using my tongue to roll and lap around the length of him until he started to throb and edge towards the back of my throat. Feeling him stiffen, going from soft and delicate to totally erect in my mouth, was one of my very favourite things – but the sunlight beaming down onto the back of my head, along with the light breeze blowing through my hair helped to heighten the experience. He seemed to enjoy the moment too; it took virtually no time at all for him to completely fill my mouth.
I did what I knew would work to drive him to his finish quickly: bobbing my head up and down, using one hand to pump his shaft, every now and then letting my fingers swoop under his jeans to roll over his balls. Four or five minutes, that’s all it took. Four or five minutes before he clamped his hand tight around my hair and yanked my head back, watching his seed as it exploded and splattered across my mouth, lips, and chin. It was a technique that we had long since perfected, first in the kitchen area of where we worked before moving to the stairwell that led right to the shop floor, and even in his car a couple of times, as it was parked in the multi-storey car park. Not to mention that one time in the office, no more than three feet from where two other colleagues were talking to potential customers, just a thin wall and a door with a code-lock offering us a slither of privacy. We knew the blind spots of the CCTV system like the back of our hands, but we’d never before ventured into the great outdoors, beyond the safe confines of our working environment. Until now.
“Surprise blowjobs in the sun for lunch are my favourite, by the way,” he laughed as he stood up and re-dressed himself, wiping away a drop of his jizz from my chin and beckoning me to lick it off his finger. “I thought you said we couldn’t do that again?”
And, just like last week, I laughed when I said: “We can’t”.
