I was 19 or 20 when he first showed up. Whenever horniness got a hold of me and I whipped my throbbing cock out, I always went to him in my fantasies. I don't know where he came from. Maybe he was just an amalgamation of all the guys I've met. I always imagined him as a tall trucker, 6'5" with over 400 pounds of manly meat on his body. Two big pecs covered with manly fur, resting on top of a big firm round belly. His arms were so thick with fat and muscles that you knew it'd pop your neck if he got you in a headlock. I'd imagine him turning around, showing me that big round ass of his, but what really made me drool was his cock always straining the jeans. His black hair was always brushed back which complemented his long well-kept beard.
It was him that roamed around my fantasies while I squeezed and pounded my angry cock. I can't remember when or how I eventually came to name him but I named him Roger. It seemed to fit him incredibly well. It gave him a sense of life. One night I leaned back in my chair with my hand around my cock and jacked off to Roger. My eyes closed, my hand flying up and down my cock, the waves of pleasure shooting through my body...
and the painful realization that I wasn't alone.
It was him that roamed around my fantasies while I squeezed and pounded my angry cock. I can't remember when or how I eventually came to name him but I named him Roger. It seemed to fit him incredibly well. It gave him a sense of life. One night I leaned back in my chair with my hand around my cock and jacked off to Roger. My eyes closed, my hand flying up and down my cock, the waves of pleasure shooting through my body...
and the painful realization that I wasn't alone.