Uprising

Two guards veer off the dusty trail, drawn to the cool embrace of an ancient oak's shadow. They dismount with a soft thud, reins dangling loose as their horses snort and paw the earth. The men stretch out on the sun-warmed grass, boots kicked aside, and soon one kneels behind the other, thrusting deep into his tight ass with a rhythm that builds like a summer storm. They switch, bodies slick with sweat, each taking his turn to bury himself balls-deep, grunts mingling with the cicadas' hum. Then they face each other, lips locking around thick, uncut cocks—fat shafts pulsing under eager tongues that lick and suck with hungry precision, hands pumping in sync. Pleasure crests sharp and sudden; ropes of cum arc into the blinding afternoon light, splattering across heaving chests while their steeds stand sentinel, eyes unblinking witnesses to the raw, forbidden revelry.