Snap Shot

Steven Daigle slips into the dim warehouse, hunting for a spark of chaos. There stands Erik Rhodes, muscles bulging like coiled steel. They lock eyes, then hands and mouths take over—raw, urgent. Steven drops to his knees, devours Erik's thick cock, lips wrapping the foreskin's soft, dangling fold. He savors every inch, tongue tracing the excess flesh with greedy precision. Erik growls, flips the script. He yanks Steven close, swallows his shaft deep, sucking with a hunger that pulls moans from the younger man's throat. Steven's gaze shifts to Erik's perfect bubble butt, round and taut. He spreads those cheeks, plunges his tongue into the tight, puckered ring, rimming with fervent laps. Erik mirrors the move, tongue-fucking Steven's hole until it's slick and begging. Then Erik rises, grips his cock, and rams it home—deep, unyielding strokes that make Steven buck and gasp. Excitement builds with every pounding thrust; Steven climbs aboard next, bouncing on that hot, rigid rod, riding the waves of friction until sweat slicks their skin. They crest together, but Steven kneels first, hand flying over his own length while his mouth engulfs Erik's massive sausage. He erupts in a hot spray, ropes of cum painting the air. Erik follows, unleashing his load in a warm shower over Steven's face. The young one lingers a beat, then slips away into the shadows. Erik's not done—craving the edge, he snags a traffic cone, squats low, and eases onto its broad tip. His hole yields, stretching wide around the unyielding pylon, the burn igniting fresh fire. He grinds down, muscles clenching, until pleasure surges again—a second, sticky burst spills from him, sealing the solitary thrill.