A Mind Set Racing

In the grey chill of the October air, I make my way downstairs to the carpark for a post-lunch cigarette. The clouds look dark and threatening, and I start to regret the fact that I haven’t brought my umbrella out with me. This had better be a quick one, a speedy hit of nicotine to fuel me for the afternoon.

As I near the rubbish bins, I notice a wad of stripey cloth dumped on the ground. Hmm, a man’s undershorts. Interesting. What’s happened here? I wonder, a wry smile curling my lips. Probably just a hole in a garbage bag, leading to an unfortunate spillage of its contents. Perhaps an accident involving an over-full bladder on the way back to the pub? There are any number of scenarios that could have led to these undies appearing beside the recycling bins. But my dirty mind starts to concoct something hot and exciting, a fantasy fuck-fest that led to this pair of underwear being torn off in the heat of passion and discarded like yesterday’s rubbish.

A mid-week drink at the local pub, leading to a few more pints and an evening of flirty looks and surreptitious touches. As the bartender calls last orders and closing time nears, a knowing look passes between them. Tipsy, but not too inebriated to know exactly what they want, they leave the pub and step out onto the High Street. It’s late, but the road is still busy and the glare of the streetlights is an unwelcome accompaniment to their wandering hands and lusty looks. With silent synchronisation, they step into the nearest side street.

Not far from the road, but secluded behind a couple of large horse-chestnut trees is a carpark. It’s not ideal, but they can’t wait any longer. The tension is unbearable, the racing blood and hot engorgement an unstoppable force.

They grab each other in the darkness, hands roaming, pulling, grabbing while their tongues twist and teeth clash. One’s shirt buttons are popped open, the other’s t-shirt is lifted to expose his taut belly, a slim line of hair arrowing down towards his groin. Hmmm, the trail to heaven….

Hands urgently fumbling for each other’s zippers, they jostle to get each other naked enough to feel skin on skin. The taller of the pair yanks the other’s chinos all the way down, until they pool at his ankles, then grips the other’s bum in both hands, bringing them closer, and grinds his hips urgently.

They both moan, as their swelling cocks bump together. The tall one’s denim jeans are still on, though the zipper and button are now undone, and the roughness of the material feels delicious against the cotton-clad erection of other- the blond, let’s call him. Yes, a strawberry blond, with fair eyelashes and bright green eyes.

I take another drag of my cigarette, and pull my coat closed as a gust of wind picks up. The distraction momentarily disturbs me from my fantasy. A yellowing autumnal leaf, disturbed by the shifting breeze, floats by my head. I try to regain my train of thought; things had just been getting interesting…

The short guy, the blond, my fictionalised owner of the discarded stripey underwear, his cock-head is starting to ooze a sticky damp patch into the fabric. The tall one- hmm, dark hair, Spaniard- no, Portuguese- slips his thumbs into the waistband of those undershorts, and the elastic glides over the smooth globes of the other man’s ass cheeks. In front, at his crotch, the underwear grazes down, over his cock, which then springs free, with a pert little bounce, then bobs and sways to attention. Mr Dark-hair reaches his hand around blondie’s girth, and strokes him with long, firm movements, while his other hand reaches into his own jeans to release his pulsating member. A groan escapes his lips as he lets his cock slide against his partner’s now, and these two beautiful, flushed pricks frot sensually, flesh to flesh. Heat on heat.

The Portuguese lover brings a hand up to his warm mouth, and licks a long stripe up his own palm before sliding it back down to grip both cocks and jerk them both in tandem. Slow and steady at first, a deliciously dirty slow-grind that feels so raw and filthy, like a slow-motion scene from a hot porno film. Then, vigorously, the pace increases, and each cock drizzles its own unique concoction of slippery precum to lubricate the proceedings.

They move together in a perfectly timed dance, these two beautiful figures, barely silhouettes against the night, with only an occasional scavenging urban fox to witness as their mingled breath condenses humidly in the millimetres of empty space between their panting lips. A strangled moan, a shuffle of leaves as the wind picks up around them then, all at once, thick, viscous splashes of milky fluids erupt, in unison almost. Mingled liquids pour over twin cock-heads, over the stroking hand and its shaking fingers, spilling drizzling droplets of cum on thighs, trousers, and underwear.

My reverie is broken as I feel a couple of drops of rain hit my nose. Hmm appropriate timing, I think, and stub out my cigarette before binning the extinguished filter- tip in the bin. As I turn and start marching briskly back to the front door of my building, I notice a slight quaking in my lower belly, and a tell-tale creamy slick in the crotch of my panties. Those discarded undershorts have certainly fired up my fantasies in an unexpected but delightfully arousing way.

But wait a minute, I think to myself as I ride the lift back upstairs, how and why did the underwear get discarded like that? Surely they’d just get pulled back up again after they’d both cum? Did the undies get so heavily splashed with spunk that they became completely unsalvagable? And, come to think of it, blondie would have had to take his trousers off completely in order to ditch the underwear, then put the trousers on again, and then what? He just chucks them on the ground and they both walk away into the night? When there’s both a regular bin and a recycling skip right beside them? N’uh uh. Not my sexy fantasy boys. My hot protagonists are not litterbugs!

Arriving at my front door, I put the key in the lock and sigh. Hmm, how do those pants end up on the ground like that? Nevermind, I shrug inwardly to myself, I can figure out the ending later. For now, I’ve decided, I’ve got an afternoon date with my vibrator and all other plans for the day are cancelled until further notice.

These undies were genuinely discarded in the carpark behind my apartment building a couple of weeks ago. As much as I would love there to have been some wonderfully sexy story behind these mystery pants, I suspect that the truth is probably very mundane. It’s fun to imagine, though…..

21 thoughts on “A Mind Set Racing

  1. God, I love people with dirty minds, we are so much fun, lol! Imagine looking as discarded underwear and thinking nothing, and making up no dirty scenarios at all, that seems incredibly dull :p I think you’ve found a perfect prompt for a story, I wonder how many different scenes would pop up if we all wrote about it x

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Exactly, I can’t imagine how anyone could see it and not immediately conjure up something sexy and hot!! Great idea about a prompt – it would be fascinating to see what folks come up with! πŸ’‘

      Like

      1. Oh, that sounds like fun! But you can’t enter the same post twice πŸ˜‰ I think I would die without a dirty mind. Plus, it makes public speaking so much easier. Love the post!

        Liked by 1 person

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