Urban Spokes
Rod Peterson pedaled through the Presidio, the Pacific's salty breeze kissing his skin as San Francisco's coastline unfurled in stunning blues and greens. Then, snap—his chain gave out, leaving him stranded. Enter Ryan Rose, a rugged good Samaritan with a quick smile and steady hands. Ryan towed him back to Urban Spokes, the bike messenger hub he ran with easy authority. Their gazes locked. Sparks flew. They crashed into each other, lips hungry and frantic, devouring the moment.
Spandex peeled away like whispered promises. Rod dropped to his knees on the cool shop floor, his mouth enveloping Ryan's massive cock. He worked it slow at first, tongue swirling, then deeper, spit trailing in glossy rivulets down his chin and Ryan's shaft. Ryan gripped Rod's head, hips bucking forward, shoving that thick meat all the way down Rod's throat until gags turned to moans.
Ryan returned the favor, kneeling to swallow Rod whole, his lips a velvet vise. But he craved more. He flipped Rod around, spreading those firm cheeks to lap at his perfect pink hole. Saliva glistened on Rod's furry ass, slick and inviting, as Ryan's tongue probed and teased. Ready, Ryan pressed in, his cock gliding smooth and deep, no resistance, just pure, slick surrender.
Rod glanced back, mouth agape in wide-eyed wonder as waves of pleasure crashed through him, Ryan's length stretching him full and fierce. They shifted—Rod straddling, seated and strong, his powerful legs flexing as he bounced on that rigid pole, riding the rhythm like a man reborn. On his back now, one leg hooked high, Rod arched. Ryan unleashed, pounding with raw, electric force, every thrust a thunderclap of ecstasy.
The build shattered. Rod erupted, ropes of cum splattering his chiseled abs in hot arcs. Ryan followed, pulling out to unleash his own pulsing stream, mingling their release in a sticky, shared triumph. Breath ragged, sighs escaping, Ryan grinned. Urban Spokes? More than messengers. A hidden haven for studs like them—hot, horny riders chasing the ultimate high.













