I was hanging out at our local bus plaza one morning, waiting like I did every day for the high school bus. Kids of all ages waited there for the various buses.
There was not much to do at the bus plaza; however I got kind of a kick out of observing the kids who waited for the middle school bus, wondering what kind of silly stuff they were going to do that day. Sometimes they rewarded my vigilance in unexpected ways (from time to time I saw boys slip behind the hedges to urinate, occasionally in pairs).
On that particular morning one of them gave me a different sort of start to my day. He was a curly-haired skinny boy dressed in the elementary and middle school "uniform" of khaki pants and a light blue polo shirt. He was standing apart from the others, behind a bench. The row of hedges was at his back.
This guy was holding his backpack alongside his hip, apparently trying to hide what was going on. He was also constantly looking around with a sort of furtive look on his face, a curious sign that I interpreted as "I hope nobody's watching."
Here is what got my attention: he stood with his crotch up against the concrete frame that supports the boards that form bench's back. While standing there and cautiously looking around, he was slowly rubbing his dick back and forth on the upright concrete piece! At one point he leaned away from the bench just long enough to adjust the front of his khakis with his free hand, seeming to move his dick to a fully upright position.
Then he resumed moving his pelvis ever so slightly right and left, rubbing what had to be a hard stiffie against the bench, constantly grinding his dick not more than two inches from side to side. He varied his act once by leaning back and then repeatedly bumping the fly of his khakis on the concrete frame: bump, bump, bump, bouncing back away from the bench after each bump.
As one who was at the age to fully appreciate such things, I went out of my way not to stare but to stand behind a kiosk in a position where I could keep tabs on the poor kid's progress and appreciate his predicament. I was placing bets in my imagination as to whether he would continue rubbing and/or bumping long enough to fully complete the operation. Would I see him treat himself to an orgasm, unloading his nuts right there at the bus plaza, intentionally starting his day with a gooey load in his pants?
But the middle school bus arrived and he hurried away from the bench, holding his backpack in front of his crotch.
Although there was no climax to his activity, the brief little performance was a nice piece of unexpected entertainment, and it resulted in me holding my own backpack in a strategic position until I could get a seat on the high school bus.