Route 69

Dustin Holloway slouches in the front seat of the car, parked crooked by the roadside, his fist wrapped tight around his throbbing cock. He strokes himself slow at first, eyes half-lidded against the relentless sun. Then a shadow cuts the haze—Skyy Knox strides across the cracked desert floor, dust kicking up behind his boots. Skyy spots the action through the windshield, grins like he's stumbled on hidden gold. 'Need a hand?' he calls, voice low and teasing, as he yanks open the door. His fingers brush Dustin's shaft, squeezing just enough to make the stud gasp. Skyy's no stranger to temptation. He drops to his knees right there in the gravel, mouth watering, and swallows Dustin's rod whole. Lips stretch wide, tongue swirling expert circles, he works that dick like a maestro with his instrument—deep throbs, wet suction pulling moans from Dustin's throat. But Dustin's greedy now, eyes locked on the bulge straining Skyy's jeans. They spill out onto the sun-baked dirt, clothes shedding like old skin. Dustin hits the ground first, knees grinding into the earth as he frees Skyy's thick meat. He dives in hungry, cheeks hollowing with each bob, tasting salt and sweat. He sucks Skyy rock-hard, veins pulsing against his tongue, until the stranger's hips twitch with need. Skyy hauls Dustin up, bends him over the car's warm hood. With one slick push, he buries his big dick balls-deep in Dustin's eager ass—tight heat gripping like a vice. 'Take that power,' Skyy growls, voice rough as gravel, thrusting faster, harder, the car rocking under them. Dustin craves more, deeper, so he flips onto his back across the hood, legs splayed wide. Skyy spits a thick glob onto that puckered hole, rubs it in rough, then slides home again—slow at first, then pounding a rhythm that steals Dustin's breath. Eyes rolling back, Dustin fists his own cock, strokes frantic until ropes of cum erupt across his chiseled abs, painting his ripped torso white. Skyy drinks in the sight, pulls out with a wet pop, and unloads. Dustin slides off the hood, drops to his knees in the dirt, chest thrust forward. Skyy's hot jets splatter that smooth muscle, marking him in sticky triumph.