Mornings with Tyler don’t always ease in. Sometimes, They cum all at once.

Heat floods first. Heat rushing to both our big dicks, pulsing insistently before either of us is fully awake. The body answers the day before the mind can catch up. Breath deepens. Muscles tighten. Everything points forward.

There’s a smell to it too.

Sleep warm skin. Sweat just beginning to bloom. That unmistakable morning scent that makes instinct take over before intention ever has a chance.

Drool slips loose somewhere between half dream and want. But there’s no embarrassment. Just proof the body’s already committed. The room is quiet except for slow movement, heavy breathing, the subtle shift of weight as we both realize we’re in the same place, awake, wired, and very aware.

Morning wood isn’t always polite.

It doesn’t always wait.

Sometimes It announces itself with pressure and purpose, demanding release, demanding motion. You can feel it in your boxers or briefs, in the way heat surges to your dick and stays there, in the way everything sharpens.

We grind. We lick. We taste longer than necessary.

Not because we’re thirsty but because the tension feels too good to rush.

Some mornings start soft.

Some mornings are all about fucking the throat.