Work It Up

Woody Fox locks the office door late, spotting Devin Franco lingering by the curb, thumbing his phone for a ride that hasn't shown. 'Hop in,' Woody says, keys jingling. 'I'll get you home.' The drive hums with quiet tension, but it shatters fast—Devin drops to his knees in the dim living room, lips wrapping around Woody's thick, uncut cock as his eager thank-you for the lift. He gags deep, throat working overtime, saliva slicking every inch. Woody groans, fingers tracing Devin's scruffy cheeks before two plunge into that tight, hungry hole, stretching it just right. Control shifts like a spark. Woody tosses Devin onto the bed, face-first into the sheets, and dives in with his tongue—lapping at the musky rim, teasing the sensitive folds. Devin hauls his legs high and wide, knees hooked over elbows, baring everything: ass, throbbing cock, heavy balls, that tender taint begging for attention. Woody savors the feast, tongue swirling deeper than a mere taste, until hunger overrides. He rears up, grips Devin's hips, and slams his cock home—hard, fast, burying to the hilt in one ruthless thrust. Devin arches, holding his legs splayed for every punishing inch, letting Woody drill to impossible depths. Devin twists onto his stomach, cheeks spread wide by his own hands, inviting more. Woody mounts him again, pounding relentlessly, skin slapping skin in a fevered rhythm. Craving fresh angles, Devin swings a leg over and straddles Woody's hips, sinking down onto that rigid shaft—the real ride he teased about at work. He bounces with fierce control, grinding deep, outpacing Woody's every buck until his own cock erupts, ropes of cum splattering across Woody's rippling, clenching abs in a hot, messy climax. Woody's close now. Devin slides off his bucking bull, mouth open and waiting, catching the warm, pulsing load straight on his tongue—swallowing every drop with a satisfied hum.