Max In The City

Max Adonis steps into San Francisco's fog-kissed streets, his pulse quickening with the city's promise. Top of his list: reconnecting with Seth Santoro, that high school ghost from a decade past. They crack open beers, words tumbling out about roads not taken, laughter laced with what-ifs. Hands brush, then linger. Lips crash. Clothes scatter like forgotten secrets across the floor. Seth drops to his knees, eyes locked on Max's throbbing cock. He devours it with a hunger that borders on desperation, throat working it down like it's the final feast. Max's fingers tangle in Seth's hair, urging deeper. Curiosity, bottled for ten years, erupts. Max kneels now, mouth claiming Seth's thick, hairy shaft—salty skin, musky heat filling his senses as he sucks with equal fire. Aches build. Max's face dives between Seth's cheeks, tongue tracing the tight ring, lapping broad strokes until it yields, slick and ready. Seth groans, hips bucking, begging to be filled. Max obliges, pressing his swollen length inside, inch by relentless inch, into that welcoming heat. From behind, Max thrusts hard, skin slapping skin in rhythmic fury. But he craves more—flips the script, straddling Seth, sinking down onto that rigid pole. It spears him deep, his own cock bouncing wild with each grind, pleasure coiling tight. Seth's girth stretches him perfectly, a velvet vice. They switch again. Max sprawls on his back, legs wide, as Seth drives in fierce and unrelenting. Climax hits Max like a storm—he erupts, ropes of cum splattering his chest. The sight undoes Seth. He pulls out, stroking fast, and unloads hot streams across Max's glistening torso, marking the reunion in sticky triumph.