A Story I Should Never Tell Again

Ok, I want to preface this story by saying that I am well aware of the creepy and somewhat perverted nature of the experience. Now I do not consider myself a pervert or sexual deviant of any kind, and yet I recently found myself doing something that you hear about and think “Eww, who does that?” Well, under the right circumstances, I guess I do.
I’ll start from the beginning. My girlfriend and I were invited to a party on a small cruise ship that left port around 8:00 in the evening. Because I work in the East Bay near where the boat was leaving, we decided that she would meet me at the West Oakland BART Station and I would drive us to the boat dock. As it happened I ended up at the station about an hour before she would arrive. Not really having anywhere to go, I just parked my truck and started listening to the radio.
Now I find myself parked between two rather large vehicles, with the parking lot behind me, and a relatively busy street and sidewalk in front of me. So for a few minutes I happily sat in my truck listening to the radio, when my mind started to wander (as it has a tendency of doing) toward thoughts of beautiful women and wild, freaky sex acts. As my mind wandered further, I began to get a little aroused and started casually rubbing myself through my pants. Nothing revealing or scandalous, just a little light touching to get me in the mood for later. Then it hits me. I had recently had the brilliant idea of putting some porn onto my Video iPod.
At the time I putting the porn onto my iPod, I was thinking, “When the hell am I ever going to actually watch porn on my iPod?” I mean seriously, who would actually masturbate to their iPod?? Well, I guess under the right circumstances, I do.
So now I have my iPod mounted to my dashboard with some hot 8th Street Latinas action playing in surround sound through my truck’s stereo system. Still not planning on doing anything illegal, I’m just relaxing and caressing myself to some 2”x2” porn – in the BART parking lot. But as I start to get more and more excited, I begin to think, “Hey I’m a pretty private spot. I’m blocked on three sides by two large trucks and my darkly tinted rear window. So all I have to watch out for is whatever is going on in front of me. . . on the well traveled West Oakland sidewalk.”
So now I’ve gotten too brave (read: horny) for my own good. My cock is now completely out of my pants, my head is tilted back (oh so slyly), and I’m really starting to give myself a rubdown. Still acutely aware of the perviness of my current actions, I’m watching what’s going on in front of me, while some hot Hispanic girl moans sexy Spanish words in surround sound. There is enough foot traffic in front me that I am forced to take a number of breaks to let people walk by. I figure I’m shielded enough that they can’t actually tell what I’m doing unless I am actively and vigorously engaged in my act of self-gratification.
Suddenly and without warning, I’m making direct eye contact with a slightly shocked and slightly amused black man who had just happened to walk between my vehicle and those parked next to me. Umm, now I’m a little ashamed of myself. He looked at for what seemed like a long time, then simply smiled and walked away. I considered stopping and putting my playmate away for a while, but decided I had come this far, and he probably wasn’t going to go away quietly. So I grabbed some napkins that I keep in my glove compartment, stepped up my pace a bit, and headed for the finish line.
Napkins are apparently not the best thing in the world for collecting my man-seed, as they are not very absorbent and tend to fall apart. Good thing I had a lot of them. Because now I’m sitting in my truck, well exposed, with a somewhat sticky mess on my hands (haha, get it? Sorry, that was bad). Quickly wiping myself, my shirt, and my car seat down, I get the majority to stick to my wad of napkins and quickly toss them underneath my truck, where they hopefully would not be discovered until long after I pulled away.
Relieved, somewhat weirded out by the drastic steps I had taken toward becoming BART Station Flasher Guy, I returned to my music and waited for my girlfriend, who showed up about 15 minutes later, none the wiser, until I had a few cocktails in me at the party and told her the story, where I received a look that said “If I ever see you in a trench coat, I’m calling the police.”
So that’s my confession. I hope you won’t judge me unfairly, as it could happen to anyone of you. I’m just an innocent victim of an overactive sex drive and modern technology.