There was a Lebanese boy on the tram this morning in skin tight work trousers that just fitted him like skin. He had a green and white checked shirt open to his cleavage. Hairy chest. Stubble. Buzz cut. Sunglasses.
The chunky arse on him had to be seen to be appreciated. Two melons slashed down the middle, quivering to get out.
There is something so hot about tight clothes on a toned body. It has energy even standing still; every curve in the right place, vibrating in harmony.
I think I'm turning into a perve.
I need to get out for some loving.
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