I smiled to myself, and ran my flattened hand down his chest, and washerboard stomach to his flaccid penis.I smiled to myself, and ran my flattened hand down his chest, and washerboard stomach to his flaccid penis. I loved this time, when he was soft, and unconscious. I softly rolled his balls between my fingers, and felt a slight shift and firming against the back of my hand. I smiled, rolled away, and rose to shower. Over breakfast Tom was eager. We had been together for almost a year, and almost all of it had been good. He had been very tender, and passionate when we met, but had the roughness in men that I love. He was always slightly stubbly, rumpled, and raw. I had come to love the harshness of this older man as he kissed my neck, and kneaded my breasts or arse as we made love. He wanted to be good to me, but not too good. After some initial shyness, we had come to share the play time, and fantasies of our lives. As we looked over the roofs of the town, Tom stood behind me and rested his hands on my shoulders. He asked me if I had slept well, and we made light conversation. I could feel his cock pressed indifferently between my shoulder blades, but had no desire so early in the day. I was clean, and wanted to make a start on our day. There was still much of the centre of town that we had not seen, and I wanted to meander. It was the start of rush hour as we left the front door of our small hotel. Tom had really made an effort, and was looking fit, relaxed, and very preppy. It was a look that never ceased to turn me on. I loved a white shirt on older men, and his linen pants were a classic for me. Myself ? Tom had still not managed to dress me as I thought he would probably want, so I was comfortable in a short, split, light, skirt, and loose cotton blouse. Tom thought I was a bit of a tart, I suppose. I was cool though, and loved the freedom of being hot and young. To get to town we had been taking the bus. It was all uphill, and the walk took the gloss off the morning when we had done it earlier in the week. It was perhaps 10 km as the crow flies, and forty minutes by public transport. The one down side of this trip was the swaying sweaty bus filled to the gunwales by men already seeming as if they had worked for days without washing. |