Hidden Palms

Topher DiMaggio lounges under the relentless sun, his body heating up in more ways than one. Horniness stirs, insistent and demanding. He rises, heading inside to stroke away the ache. Luck strikes like a sly wink: he passes Casey Jacks, all hunk and barely there in a skimpy swimsuit. Their eyes lock in a nod thick with promise. Topher pushes on, strips bare on his bed, cock straining hard and eager. Casey trails him, drops to his knees without a word. The cock-starved stud devours every smooth, muscled inch of Topher, lips sliding with greedy hunger. That blowjob fires Topher up, preps him to claim what he craves. But first, he hungers for Casey's hairy ass. Topher dives in, tongue lapping broad and deep, loosening that tight ring until it's slick and yielding, primed for his thick shaft. Restraint snaps. Topher flips Casey onto his back, eases his massive cock inside the pleading jock. No easing in—he thrusts with wild fury from the jump. Casey groans loud with each plunge, begging for more depth, more force. They shift, bodies twisting in heated rhythm, until Casey braces on all fours. Topher pounds him from behind, relentless. He pulls free at the peak, unleashes ropes of warm cum across those firm, muscled cheeks. Sticky and spent from behind, Casey rolls over. He grips his rod, pumps hard, and spills pure white bliss over his taut stomach.