The Territory

Grant Ryan had overheard the investors' scheme, a ruthless bid to carve up the land. He wouldn't let Andre Donovan, the slick developer, succeed. So he set his trap: dropping to all fours in the shadowed woods, his jockstrap framing his exposed ass like a siren's call. Andre stumbled upon the sight and froze, eyes wide with disbelief. Then hunger took over. He lunged forward, burying his face between Grant's cheeks, tongue lapping greedily at that tight, puckered hole. Grant moaned, arching back as Andre teased the rim with swirling licks, then slipped two fingers inside, stretching him slow and deliberate. But Grant craved deeper. Sensing it, Andre freed his massive cock—bare, throbbing—and pressed the swollen head against Grant's entrance. He thrust in, inch by unyielding inch, until Grant's hole clenched around him like a velvet vice. Andre groaned, pulling out only to grab Grant's hair and shove his slick shaft down his throat, ass-to-mouth, the musky taste fueling Grant's fire. They collapsed side by side, Andre sliding back in, pounding with rhythmic fury, their bodies slick with sweat. A brief pause—Andre's mouth enveloping Grant's rigid dick, sucking hard and sloppy—before Grant straddled him, sinking down to the hilt, riding that thick length with abandon, hips grinding in sensual circles. As climax built, Andre flipped the script: Grant dropped to his knees, face upturned, while Andre unleashed ropes of hot cum across his features. Grant's own release followed, spilling onto the forest floor in pulsing jets. In the haze of afterglow, before Andre could fumble for his clothes, Grant pounced—ropes binding wrists and ankles swift as a predator's strike. Had his ploy snared the developer for good, derailing the destruction?