Route 69

Dustin Holloway and Fane Roberts pull into a dingy motel off Route 69, the neon sign buzzing like a promise in the humid night. Best friends for years, they've danced around the fire—sucking and fucking strangers on this endless road trip, but never each other. Tonight, confessions spill out like spilled whiskey. They've craved this, hidden it too long. Dustin moves first, fingers hooking into Fane's waistband. He yanks the pants down. There it stands: Fane's cock, rigid as forged steel, pulsing with need. Dustin drops to his knees, mouth watering. He swallows Fane whole, throat stretching to take every inch, lips sealed tight around the base. Fane groans, hands fisting Dustin's hair. Curiosity burns in Fane now—he guides Dustin to the sagging bed, eager to sample his friend at last. They twist into a perfect 69, bodies aligned like locked gears. Dustin's tongue laps greedily at Fane's shaft while Fane devours him in return, sucking deep, savoring the salty pulse of skin on skin. But Dustin hungers for more. He rolls onto his stomach, ass arched high, inviting. Fane dives in, tongue probing, circling the tight ring until it yields, slick and ready. Loosened, aching, Dustin climbs aboard. He sinks down slow, impaling himself on Fane's length, bottoming out with a gasp that echoes off the thin walls. Fane lets him ride a few beats—hips bucking up to meet each drop—but control calls. He flips Dustin onto his back, legs splayed wide. Fane thrusts home, pounding with a rhythm honed by unspoken dreams, balls slapping skin. Steady. Relentless. Dustin breaks first—moans ripping free, eyes rolling back as ecstasy crashes through him. Cum jets across his stomach in hot ropes. Fane watches, undone. He pulls out, strokes once, twice. His load erupts, mingling with Dustin's in a sticky testament to their surrender. The road trip stretched on forever, but this? This binds them, alters everything in a single, shattering night.