At the ripe age of twenty-three, I stood proudly at 6'3, with the easiest way to describe myself being large, muscular, tan and a little hairy. I had thick, rough skinned fingers, fitted onto massive, strong hands and my large, well defined arms. My wide shoulders were a key part in giving me the presence I had, snuggly fitted into a tight shirt to put emphasis on them, before my broad chest and perfectly carved six pack. I had worked hard for this astonishing body of mine, but what I was truly proud of was my back, in its wide and muscular perfection, every muscle well defined and with good size to them, while I found my lower body more boring, despite great calves, and cannon strong thighs that weren't disproportionally big or small. My hair was a wild mess, as I kept it a little wild, partially covering those big and boring brown eyes of mine, while keeping my beard well shaven, exposing that sharp jawline of mine and leaving room for my college fuckboy smile. And I worked hard keeping my body nicely tanned all over, even down to my crotch with my flaccid six inch length, growing to eight inches erect with an amazing girth, and an intimidating, bulbous tip, resting above two sizeable, heavy orbs

Regardless of what type of woman I had the chance to get together with, my interest usually leaned to an older woman, and it sure was a blast to learn about them through their drunken ranting, while watching how happily they drink with such a handsome younger man, all the while I could come to encourage touching and groping of my large frame, contained in my tight shirts and tight jeans, not leaving much to the imagination, and it was quite the discovery to find out how much it could help knowing how to cook. The only thing I really cared about was fun, as I wasn't massively motivated by money, fame or even love, though I didn't mind if some of it came along with what I considered fun. And I already had my eyes on someone, seeing as I did enjoy simply going to a bar, or maybe inviting a woman to my apartment for dinner and such, I also noticed some around me, such as the hard working nurse three floors below me, an incredibly kind and tenacious woman who worked three times as hard as her husband for a third of the pay, as a man who was a travelling businessman, being paid in buckets to sleep at hotels pretty much. Despite her love for what she worked with, her tenacious mindset and the husband she married with a smile, it still took a toll on her to work so hard for so long and return to an empty apartment with nothing to do, how could she refuse a home cooked meal and a drink with a younger man? Another soft desire of mine was unprofessionalism, as I loved the thought of sleeping with a woman, preferably while she was at work or supposed to be, or by meeting her through her job, whether that be a bartender I convince to take a drink with on a slow night, or maybe an old teacher of me who was barely any older than me in college, or cliches like a police officer pat down. The ideas were endless, and I was yearning...