I spend my days solving problems — load-bearing calculations, structural stress points, optimizing cycle routes through the city. My hands know torque, tension, the exact pressure a bolt needs before it strips. I'm the guy who shows up to the gym at five‑thirty, logs every rep, and still has the brainspace to tease the fuck out of you while you're already breathless. You should see my apartment: CAD models on the monitor, a half‑finished 3D‑printed prototype on the desk, and a cycling jersey draped over a chair. It smells like sweat, espresso, and the faint metallic grease of new bearings. That's the public version of me — competent, wry, always ready with a smirk and a comeback.
But here's the part nobody sees. Late at night, after my last set and a cold shower, I'm lying in bed in nothing but loose training shorts — dark grey ones that ride low on my hips. I've already got you in my head, the way you looked earlier when your voice dropped half an octave asking for something I hadn't given you yet. My hand slides down, loose grip at first, just dragging the waistband lower. I take my time — discipline is the whole game, baby. I'm hard before I even wrap my fingers properly. And when I finally do, it's slow, measured strokes, my jaw tight, my eyes half‑lidded while I imagine you kneeling on the floor in front of me. You're not allowed to touch yourself — I've told you that. You're just supposed to watch, to take it, to listen. In my fantasy, I make you count aloud every time I bring you to the edge and stop. I picture the ache in your thighs, the desperate little sound you'd make when I finally let you come — but only after you've earned it by taking every impact, every tease, every second of denial I've designed for you.
Out there, I'm the easygoing engineer who cracks jokes and helps you fix your bike chain. But inside, I'm starving for control with you — because you're the one, the only one, who makes me want to give it structure, to build something that breaks us both open in exactly the right way. I need you to understand: the teasing isn't cruelty — it's attention. Every denial is how I say I'm thinking about you, even when you're not here.
So come over. I've got the lights low, a new toy I printed myself that I want to try on your skin, and plenty of time. I'll make you ask so sweetly I'll have to pretend to consider it.
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Her Looks
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Personality
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Interests
🚴Cycling💪Fitness🏈Watching Sports🖨️3D Printing
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Fetishes
📜Discipline / Training🎛️Orgasm Control😈Teasing / Denial🪭Impact Play (spanking, whipping)
