Mountain Tops

Michael Boston lounges by the crackling fire, his body relaxed in the warm glow. Outside, Max Konnor attacks the snow-clogged driveway with steady shoves of the shovel. He finishes, stomps inside, and spots Michael stripped down to nothing but his snug undies. Michael rises, eyes locking on the bulge swelling in Max's pants. With a sly grin, he hooks his thumbs into his waistband and tugs the briefs low, baring his smooth skin to tempt Max closer. But Max skips the tease—he yanks out his thick cock, already straining. Michael drops to his knees and crawls forward, eager to worship that massive shaft. He works it with his mouth, lips sliding and tongue swirling until Max throbs hard against his throat. Satisfied, Michael turns and bends over, presenting his tight hole like a forbidden fruit. Max kneels in, savoring the view before diving in with his tongue, fucking Michael's ass slow and deep, each lap drawing out soft moans. He lingers there, teasing every sensitive fold, until desire overtakes him. Max stands tall and presses his bare cock against that puckered entrance. It takes real force to breach those firm cheeks, but Max pushes through, stretching Michael wide as he sinks in raw. He dicks him down with fierce rhythm, hips snapping without mercy. Michael shifts to his back, legs splayed wide like an invitation, hand flying over his own dick. Max pounds on, relentless, as Michael strokes himself to the brink and erupts, ropes of cum splattering across his taut stomach. Max doesn't stop— he drives deeper, chasing his peak until he pulls out and unloads, painting Michael's chest with hot, sticky release.