Lunchtime Interlude.

Once upon a time, a hundred years ago...

I worked in an office in Auckland city close to a public park. With lots of beautiful trees, duck ponds and private areas to walk or sit. Idealic spots to enjoy the ambiance and beauty of such a magnificent place, with spectacular views to the Hauraki Gulf beyond where the great conical snout of Rangitoto rises up from the sea. On any given day there'd be yachts aplenty with brightly coloured sails and depending on the wind, spinnakers flying free and high as the sunlight sparkled like diamonds upon the ocean blue to bedazzle the eyes of the viewer.

I loved going to the park during my lunch hour. Lived for the chance to escape outside and went there daily, come rain or shine. When it was warm, I'd be there after a quick five minute walk, sprawled on the grass removing the wide brimmed straw hat I donned. Then my high heels, suit jacket if there'd been a nip in the air and lastly would let down my hair from the knot I normally kept it in at work. My daily treat. To just relax completely for forty minutes or so and 'veg out' in my 'favourite spot' where I'd eat my sandwich and read my book in peace...

The place I chose was actually quite private and shady with all the trees around and just 'off the beaten track.'  It gave me the perfect blend of privacy, sun and shade and was in a slight depression so that I was almost invisible lying there in the grass, unless you happened to walk on top of me...

On this particular day, I'd been reading about Ayla and Jondalar from one of Jean M Auel's marvelous books from a series about Earths Children and had reached the part where Jondalar was sharing a ceremony with Ayla and the Mother's Gift of Pleasures. After peering around to be sure I was indeed alone, I immersed myself in the story once more and stirred to excitement as the erotic scene unfolded in front of me, was tempted into action. I undid a couple of buttons on my skirt and reached through and beneath my panties to stroke myself...

I was lost in my own world, captivated by the words on the page that were vividly playing out in my mind. Laying on my side, the book now discarded beyond my outstretched hand that flexed and grabbed at the grass, I had arched my neck back and closed my eyes to the shafts of sunshine that caught me in the face through the tree branches. Panting softly, I felt the heat rise, juices flow and surrendered to the fantasy and the sheer 'naughtiness' of the moment.

On the verge of climax, the sound of a zipper unraveling instantly startled me into awareness again and I found myself staring into the eyes of a handsome young stranger about my own age. He lay on the grass opposite and facing me, my straw hat tucked firmly under his arm. Perhaps the light breeze had picked it up and flung it his way...

He'd slid a hand into his underwear, released his cock and was stroking himself slowly from tip to root and back again in front of me...

Frozen, stilled into shock by his sudden appearance, I simply stared at him. How could I not have heard his approach? I remember the rising heat of the blush that flamed my neck and cheeks, how I couldn't breathe yet felt my heartbeat thundering in my veins. My first instinct was panic, to flee. To leap to my feet and run off. I was a long distance runner in those days and what I lacked in speed, I made up for in stamina. 

But he smiled at me, brought his fingers to his lips in a shushing motion, then gazed to where my wet fingers still lay and the view beyond.

Something passed between us. 

Though we never said a word to one another, by some mutual unspoken agreement, we resumed our play. We watched the other. The excitement of 'seeing' and the thrill of what we were doing in broad daylight in a public park no less, not to mention we were perfect strangers, had us both on the verge in minutes. Biting the knuckles of my free hand, eyes glued to the mesmerizing movements of his hand as he quickened the rhythm in a fascinating show, I came. Hard. Still too loudly, even with the fist I'd jammed in my open mouth. Then he was groaning his own enjoyment and spurting on the grass between us, thrilling me completely.

After resting for a moment, we grinned at one another, tidied ourselves up and walked away in opposite directions.

I never saw him again, but the following afternoon I cautiously returned to 'my spot,' where I found a fresh bunch of freesias. They lay in a posy where I'd laid on the grass. I looked about me warily, still somewhat startled by my brazen behavior of the day before, yet relaxed when I realized I was indeed alone. Bringing the flowers to my nose, I drank in their perfume that to this day, still makes me smile in remembrance.  Were they from him? Who knows... I’d like to think so.