This is an interracial story inspired by Jay Mason's cruising videos on PornHub, enjoy!
I walked out of the Micheals carrying a bag of paints for my wife and daughter who both love to paint. My wife went to art school, and my daughter is taking after her by dreaming of becoming a muralist. I do have an appreciation for art, but with my busy work schedule as a dentist, I never really have the time to pick up a brush. Due to summer break beginning, they both were painting a lot; within a week, their paint supply ran out and it fell upon me to restock: so, I did.
The automatic sliding doors slid out of my way, and I stepped out into the entrance facing the parking lot that the bright, summer sunshine was shining upon. Anyone could stop to admire it, but I was vexed by it because of how extremely hot it was on my skin: I don't burn easy for an ebony guy, so instead of being avoidant of the sun, I just stay vexed by it because it makes the day unpleasantly hot. I spotted my car in a shaded part in the back of the lot--I was smart to park my car underneath some shade, even with a shield over my windshield--and I made my way to it.
The parking lot was modestly empty, only about 20 cars at most, so I didn't have to be wary of any traffic--that doesn't mean I was completely obsolete, though. I looped around a small row of cars, cut through an empty parking spot, and was delighted at the smooth walk from the spot to my car. Before I went to my car, I noticed a Prius in the parking spot to the right of mine.
There wasn't anything extraordinary about the Prius: it was steel-grey and was a 2017 model. However, I noticed that all the windows were clear as day, the driver's seat was tilted down, and the man in the car was laying down. The man, who appeared to be a caucasin with dark-brown hair, was laying down appeared to be... naked from the waist down? He was stroking what appeared to be his... cock at a relaxed speed? And for some reason, he was looking over at his radio and talking. Lord, I was confused, but also intrigued.
On the topic of masturbation, I never really liked it. At some point when I was a teen, I masturbated a bit. I loved the pleasure from the rhythmic stroking, but I disliked the guilt I felt afterwards: so I stopped and turned to voyeurism. In college, I was at a frat party, and there was a game a group of guys pulled me into called "Bust A Jack." In the game, you had to jerk off and edge for as long as you could without orgasming. The boys hosting the game knew about my voyeuristic tendencies, and let me watch as these 19-year-olds beat their carrots with the urgency of a Skyrim NPC. When the last two guys--some dudes named Todd and Wyatt--were left, they let me finish them off with a double handjob as a sort of instant death round. Wyatt ended up winning, and Todd, alongside the first guy to get out, were both mocked for their premature ejaculatory habist for the rest of the night.
As I looked at the man in the car, he looked over at me and grinned. He kept stroking as he looked absently into my eyes and then to his radio. Then, I heard him speak to the radio in an inaudible speech while looking strangely excited. I walked over to my car and put the bag of paints in my trunk as if I never saw the guy, and then I walked up to the window next to his seat. Suddenly, I got a clearer view of the salacious scene in the car.
The man was indeed a caucasin with dark-brown hair. His seat was tilted back, allowing him to lay back in his seat and masturbate while in an almost-horizontal position. He had a small, navy-blue tank top covering his chest, and jeans that were slid down his legs to free his cock from the restraints of his jeans. The "radio" he was looking at was actually his phone on record, he must've been recording a video for an adult site. What caught me off-guard was how this guy's face looked: he looked like the friendly guy at the neighborhood barbeque who made hotdogs for everyone. Now, I saw that guy jerking off in his car. He looked at me again, and gave me a perma-smile as he shamelessly kept jacking himself off at a moderate pace.
"Hey," he greeted, while still stroking himself.
"Oh, hey." I greeted back, my eyes drawn to the fornication below.
"You like what you see?" he asked, and then chuckled.
"Yeah," I replied.
"You just gonna watch?" he asked.
"Sure, why not?" I cunningly replied.
For a few moments, I watched as this man began to pick up his stroking speed. He tilted his head back in the seat as he moaned. Even though he was enjoying playing with himself and cruising, there was a part of me that felt that this pleasure was all too uniform for him. He looked back and forth at the camera in between his head swings and gasps.
I admired how casual he seemed about jacking off in front of a complete stranger; I assumed he was comfortable simply because I was a guy. To be fair, in high school, you have to go into locker rooms with other naked guys, so discussion and minor suggestions of masturbation become common during those sensual showers. It was then I realized it was a mix of that, and a mix of cruising. I think this guy was looking to get his dick sucked; unfortunately, for him, I'm not into blowjobs.
"I might be close soon," he said, and then gasped as he edged closer.
I watched voyeuristically with anticipation, but also with concern. He was rubbing too hard, his penile skin was red from the friction. Finally, with male intuition, I decided to step in.
"Hey," I said, "If you don't mind, I could help ya out."
"Oh sure!" he replied, almost sounding like he anticipated me jacking him off, "Help a brother out!"
I reached my hand into the car and leapt for his manhood. His erection stood tall, and it was good enough for me to get a good grip on it to stroke. I wrapped my ebony hand around his cock, and he slowly exhaled. He put his hands behind his head and surrendered to my fist.
Instead of starting out slow and eventually adding speed, I stroked him at a medium-to-fast pace. He had no initial reaction, but as the pleasure and pain kicked in, he couldn't help but gasp and moan.
"Oh, fuck.." he moaned, and threw his head back.
I kept stroking. Even though I wasn't going to make myself cum, I get this empathetic feeling where I know the person is feeling pleasure while jacking them off. It's a strange power, and I can't explain it properly.
"Don't stop... oh.." he asked.
He looked into the camera and grinned like he was having the time of his life. A black guy, like me, was jacking him off when he clearly put himself out here to be played with like this. Eventually, he tilted his head back and looked at the ceiling of his car. Instead of moans, he began breathing in a synchronized motion.
Randomly, he rolled his tank top up to give my hand more room for his cock to be masturbated.
In and Out.
In and Out
In and Out.
I was disappointed at how he stopped moaning: I live for that. I love to hear a man moan: it's much better hearing it in real life from a guy on the edge of an orgasm, than a guy who's probably faking it or exaggerating it in porn. Because of this, I tightened my grip and sped up my stroking.
He could no longer hold his cries in, he gasped and cursed at the pleasure while I kept stroking.
"So.. good.." he groaned.
Soon, his body turned red. His body began to twitch and spasm. I knew he was close.
"Oh, I'm so close.." he groaned, "Do you wanna see me cum..?"
"Yeah, I won't stop." I sternly said, as I delivered him to climax.
"Oh bro, I'm gonna cum..."
I didn't listen, I kept jacking him off.
"Fuck..." he cursed, "Fuck, that feels so good..."
"I know," I replied.
I looked at his face, he was mouthing curses, closing his eyes, and moaning. He had that distressed look that all men have when in sexual situations like this. For example: a man getting assfucked looks like he's in distress, when in reality he either feels amazing or inexperienced.
"Ah! I'm close! I'm gonna cum!" he cried.
He moaned, he breathed, he gasped. I stroked at lightning speed.
Finally, he let out a cry of pleasure as ropes of cum shot everywhere on him. Most of them spewed onto his tank top, but some of them got on my hand and my watchface (yes, I had a watch on the arm I used to masturbate him with). His milk-white cum contrasted with my dark skin, it was artistic in a way.
"Oh... oh, fuck." he sighed, as he looked at his dirty shirt. I pulled my hand out of the car and began cleaning up my hand and my watch with the edge of my shirt.
"Thank you so much man..." he thanked me, and waved at me.
"Oh, no problem!" I replied, happy I got to tap into my college days.
"By the way," I asked, "What's your name...?"
"Roy Mason, on OnlyFans."
Bingo. I knew he was recording for an adult site.
"Great, I'll consider checking out your page sometime.
"By the way, can you censor me out of whatever video you just recorded?" I asked.
"Oh, yeah." he obliged, "I owe you, man, I really do."
I noticed his dick went flaccid and shrunk down into his crotch.
"Just give me your number and... and I'll come to your house and I'll do--"
"No, no," I rejected, "It's fine, I'm not into sex."
"Oh, ok.." he said.
As I walked away, I heard him still panting.
That day, I drove home with a grin on my face. I didn't dare tell anyone at home what I did in the parking lot, I kept it a secret. Later that night, I went on my phone and checked OnlyFans for this "Roy Mason's" page...