A number of years ago, I was headed home after a half day of skiing. Walking through the crowded and nearly deserted parking lot, I passed by a station wagon and stopped dead in my tracks. There in the front drivers seat was a guy, maybe my age of 25 or maybe younger behind the driver's seat, barechested with his ski pants pushed down to his knees.
What impressed me though, was the cock he was stroking. A magnificent eight inch, one of the few I'd ever, or still have ever seen. Straight as an arrow and thick, it stretched past his navel to an arrow tip head gleaming with the anticipations of an orgasm.
I'd positioned myself on the right side of the car near the rear side window where I could best see his full fist pump up and down, his head thrown back and sweat shining on his skin and down to the trail that led to a thick bush of tan pubic hair. As his anticipation grew, my penis swelled in my Lycra ski pants, straining and tenting them. Watching him masturbate was really a turn on but seeing that dick of his was a thing of beauty. Veined by ivory white, the circumcision scar done by an artist. So straight, so long so hard.
Still unsure (and uncaring) if he could see me, I watched him fulfil his orgasm, comming all over his chest and the windshield before casually walking away, my own hardon straining and awaiting my soon to be achieved masturbation.
Glancing back, I only then noticed that the station wagon was obviously a company car. There, along with a phone number was the name of the company, 'K****** Steel Erections'.
To this day, I still masturbate over that memory while getting a chuckle out of the irony of the comparison of his penis and his company name. Good advertising.