Fit Tommy

I've got to say what a fit lad Tommy is. I love that term when guys describe guys that are attracted to, as he's really fit. The mornings Tommy doesn't have to be at uni, he comes over in his tracksuit pants and crawls into bed with me.

Then there he is, with his track pants around his ankles, big, fat, hardon, pointing upwards with tight skin and bulging veins. Like rock. It always feels like latex, as my hand closes around it, until I have made it slippery with lube. A couple of strokes.

"I love having my cock played with," says Tommy, every morning. He melts as the lube dissolves into slippery liquid all the way up and down his hard shaft.

"Ahhhhh!" He kisses me hungrily. I love that. He smells good, tastes even better. Warm and sweet. I love the stubble on his chin, the hair on his chest, his big, muscular arms.

He shakes as he cums, he kind of vibrates up and down his limbs. I do the head with my thumb. Fist around the knob, he shoots high into the air with the first, always, and sometimes the second. High. Not so high.

I love his cum covered skin, on his knob, in his foreskin. He shakes with each movement my hand makes after he has shot. His big, banana bend, bulging. He brings his hand down over my hand and squeezes when it's enough.

I love it that he has Monday mornings off. I look forward to his big, fat cock.

Then we have coffee together. My weeks start great.

He leaves all excited. He kisses me and then kisses me again, and then he kisses me again. Big smile.