He was very happy that he did not have to focus on a boy or a man either down on the road or the beach front and then run in to get naked and masturbate because by then his mind would have forgotten the beauty he had seen in the first place. The thrill of all this, he loved to be in full view of everybody and still safe to jerk and enjoy himself. He even knew deep down that it was no thrill but what else could he do when no one wanted to be fucked by him but he knew, it was their loss. Although he was not a record holder but still his fucking gizmo was far better than average in length and girth and he also knew how to use it for mutual benefit with very healthy balls always producing and keeping more than enough in reservoirs for emergency need if at all. Shrugging all thoughts, he had come to balcony this afternoon as always, naked and no pre-notions set in his mind but quickly his eyes caught a glimpse of a shining olive brown skin and the pitch black hair of a lad in the distance. The dress code at the restaurant called for blue jeans and a yellow polo shirt with the company logo on it. The jeans I was wearing, the shirt and my balled-up apron were stuffed in my backpack, as always, and I wore a simple green tank. I was just another girl in the crowd, I figured. At one point, I looked up, cracking my neck and popping my back as I twisted in my chair. Going over the basics of economics had become repetitive, to the point where I wasn’t even ingesting the words I had jotted down or those printed in the text book. I needed a break, a diversion . . . . I saw them standing by the little hallway in the food court that lead to the bathrooms. A tall, skinny blonde guy and a shorter, if equally skinny Hispanic. I didn’t think either of them were more than a few years older than I. They wore nice clothes, sported expensive watches and had good hair cuts. Regular studs, I thought. I had seen a lot of guys like that since I started waiting tables. They always flirted with.
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