Under Fire

Sunlight glints off the Jeep as Martin Sandor and Johan Reves rumble up the dirt path, spotting Patrik Zsolt crouched by the porch, knife slicing through potato skins with steady strokes. They hop out, ready to lend a hand, but the air thickens with unspoken heat. Hands wander. Shirts tug free, buttons pop like ripe secrets. Pants slide down, exposing taut skin and hardening cocks that beg for attention. Zsolt drops to his knees first, lips parting to take Sandor deep, tongue swirling along the thick shaft while Reves watches, stroking himself with a hungry grin. Sandor groans, fingers threading through Zsolt's hair, guiding the rhythm until his own mouth finds Reves, sucking him in with a wet, eager pull. The three form a slick chain of desire, breaths ragged, bodies linked in urgent motion. Then it shifts. Sandor bends forward, ass presented like an invitation. Zsolt thrusts in from behind, slow at first, then pounding with raw need, his cock buried to the hilt in Sandor's tight heat. Reves claims Sandor's mouth again, but soon repositions, sliding into Sandor from the front—no, wait, the chain tightens true: Zsolt fucks Sandor fierce and deep, while Sandor takes Reves in turn, their bodies slamming together in a sweat-slicked line, moans echoing like thunder under the open sky.