Cash wouldn’t do the trick. Tyler had a stable job. One that paid him well above the grade that his fellow graduates would be making. But yet that still didn’t satisfy him. He’d lay awake at night after the strenuous days at work in his pajamas. No shirt, no boxers. Just the shorts. He’d slowly reach behind the waist band and feel himself down to the tip of his voluptuous cock.
Thinking. Thinking hard. Thinking while hard. Then hardly thinking. Sending late night messages to his friends that are girls, playing innocent, knowing his innocence is his own guilt.
“Are you talking about your ??” replied a curious Rose.
“Of course not haha only you would take it that way ?,” responded a hypocritical Tyler.
“Ty, I’d take three other ways from you,” demanded Rose. She’d become aroused just by the thought of seeing Tyler’s bulge at the pool. “Now let me see it.”
“You first,” pleaded Tyler, “I need to know what I’m up against…or what I WILL be pushing up against.”
Rose, with a face the color of her name, delivered a picture. Her breasts. So convex. Squeezed and pushed as if they were lemons meant for lemonade. Smooth such as the velvet of a luxury coat.