Name: Johnny Redford
Age: 29
Location: Ellesville
Occupation: Personal Trainer, Ellesville Gym
Description: Tall/185cm, build of a gym-junkie. Wears tight black muscle shirt and jeans at this point in the story. Brown eyes, brown hair.
I'd like to try take this further then the initial encounter
PM me nowww if interested:
https://forum.literotica.com/private.php?do=newpm
****
Johnny closed the car door of the family SUV, sighing at the empty front passenger seat. His night was ruined.
His wife had chosen her friends over him. So much for that idea.
He walked slowly and quietly down the pathway leading to his front doorstep. He slowly slid his keys inside the door, briefly pausing to think. Cologne. Shaved. An expensive dinner. Flowers. What was it for anyway? He opened the front door, walking down the corridor into his kitchen and gently set his keys down in there usual spot. He slowly trotted up the stairs, glancing around the mostly empty house. He peeked into his tiny, 8-month-old son's room.
Quiet as a baby. The 'sitter must've left. He shrugged, walking down the corridor into the master bedroom, wanting to drop onto the bed. . .
Age: 29
Location: Ellesville
Occupation: Personal Trainer, Ellesville Gym
Description: Tall/185cm, build of a gym-junkie. Wears tight black muscle shirt and jeans at this point in the story. Brown eyes, brown hair.
I'd like to try take this further then the initial encounter
PM me nowww if interested:https://forum.literotica.com/private.php?do=newpm
****
Johnny closed the car door of the family SUV, sighing at the empty front passenger seat. His night was ruined.
His wife had chosen her friends over him. So much for that idea.
He walked slowly and quietly down the pathway leading to his front doorstep. He slowly slid his keys inside the door, briefly pausing to think. Cologne. Shaved. An expensive dinner. Flowers. What was it for anyway? He opened the front door, walking down the corridor into his kitchen and gently set his keys down in there usual spot. He slowly trotted up the stairs, glancing around the mostly empty house. He peeked into his tiny, 8-month-old son's room.
Quiet as a baby. The 'sitter must've left. He shrugged, walking down the corridor into the master bedroom, wanting to drop onto the bed. . .
