Drive Thru

Lucas Allen wipes down the last tables in the dimly lit restaurant, the night winding down with Bruno Bernal at his side. Closing duties crumble fast—aprons hit the floor, shirts fly off, and they're clawing at each other's pants behind the counter. Bruno drops to his knees, eyes locked on Lucas' fat, uncut dick springing free. He takes it deep, gobs of spit trailing down the shaft as he works to the base, throat bulging with every eager plunge. Bruno straightens up and bends over the counter, cheeks spread wide, inviting Lucas to dive in. Lucas kneels, tongue lashing at Bruno's hole, rimming him with hungry swirls until it's slick and ready. No need for more than spit—Lucas stands, grips his massive meat, and thrusts it deep into Bruno's tight buns. Bruno clutches the cash register, knuckles white, as Lucas pounds his open hole, each stroke stretching him wider, the rhythm building like a stolen heartbeat. Lucas hoists himself onto the counter, legs splayed, and Bruno climbs on, sinking down onto that throbbing tool. He bounces hard, grinding deep, muscles clenching until his load rockets out in thick spurts across the polished surface. Lucas strokes himself furiously then, watching, until his own release oozes hot and sticky onto his thigh, marking the end of their fevered shift.