That Time I Literally Almost Got Caught Masturbating in Public

I’m sitting in my car, parked by the park, dick out, stroking it like a man possessed. The windows are fogged up, but that doesn’t stop the nervous jolt every time a shadow passes by. My fist is slick with lube, pumping hard, the red dildo in my ass squelching with each thrust. I’m fucking myself recklessly, teeth gritted, eyes wide, heart pounding. The risk of getting caught is a drug, a sick thrill that makes my cock throb. I can feel the orgasm building, a tight coil in my balls, ready to snap. But then, a knock on the window. A fucking cop, badge gleaming, face stern. I freeze, hand still wrapped around my shaft, dildo buried deep. He taps again, louder this time. I’m fucked, literally and figuratively. But the adrenaline, the danger, it’s intoxicating. I take a deep breath, ready to face the music, ready to explain why I’m jerking off in public with a dildo up my ass. But for now, I’m stuck in this moment, a perverted statue, hoping he doesn’t decide to open the door and see the filthy truth.

The cop moves on, leaving me shaking, breath ragged. I resume my frantic pace, the dildo sliding in and out, the car filling with the scent of sex and fear. My hand is a blur, chasing the release that’s just out of reach. I can feel it, the edge of the cliff, the precipice of pleasure. I grunt, a low, animal sound, as I finally tip over, cum spilling out, coating my hand, my shirt, the seat. The orgasm is brutal, ripping through me, leaving me spent and gasping. I pull out the dildo, the cool air a shock against my gaping hole. I’m a mess, a sweaty, sticky, panting mess. But I did it. I came, I survived, and I’m alive with the thrill of it all. The risk, the danger, the fucking adrenaline. It’s a high like no other, and I’m already craving more.