SOLO

by robert craig

He backs the truck in between the faded white lines at the end of the parking lot. Rolls the windows down. Pushes the seat back. He reclines and relaxes and turns off the engine. A warm breeze blows through the windows. Summer heat and fresh cut grass. The hum of the highway in the distance. 

He undoes his jeans and slides them down his thighs. Then his underwear. He’s a little stiff and he plays with himself. With his other hand he holds and cups his balls and tugs them tight.

He looks around. Checks the mirrors and slowly strokes his cock, making himself harder. After a few minutes of going slow, he squeezes the top of his dick, just below his swollen head. A bead of precome leaks out. He rubs it around with his thumb. Slowly stroking still. His dick is now rock hard and solid. He pulls up his shirt, exposing his hairy stomach. 

He leaks more and more as he pumps his dick. He uses the precome as lube around the base of his head. It's sticky and wet and fuels the fire. Harder. 

He’s close to unloading. His stomach contracts. His balls tighten. His cock is throbbing. He pumps harder. Faster. His grip like a vice. A fist full of man. And suddenly he feels the surge rip through him. 

A shot of precome spills out. Then a thick stream of cum lands on his stomach. Two more spurts spill and dribble down his hand. He catches his breath and licks his fingers clean. 

He looks around and pulls down his shirt, smearing the spew across his stomach. Soaking the fabric. The smell of spunk thick in the air. Pungent and raw.