Summer Memories

As evening shadows lengthen, Ludovic Canot winds the mantel clock one final time for the summer, its soft tick echoing a memory that quickens his pulse. There stands Jose Ganatti, chiseled and commanding, his body a sculpture of taut muscle and sun-kissed skin. They circle each other like predators in heat, hands roaming slow and deliberate. Fabric falls away—shirts tugged over heads, pants shoved down thighs—revealing chests they tease with thumbs and tongues, nipples hardening under the graze. Uncut cocks spring free, thick and veined; they wrap fingers around their own lengths first, eyes locked, before reaching out to claim the other's. Strokes build rhythm, firm and unhurried, until mouths descend—lips parting to swallow, tongues swirling over foreskin and glans, savoring the salty pulse. They twist into a sixty-nine, cocks plunging deep while asses lift for rimming tongues that probe and lave, slick with hunger. Jose takes Ludovic first, pinning him down, cock breaching tight heat with a thrust that steals breath. He pounds steady, deep, until Ludovic flips the script, mounting Jose and driving in with equal fire, their bodies slick and slapping. Climax crashes over them—Jose spilling hot inside Ludovic, then Ludovic flooding Jose, both men gasping out their release in raw, shuddering bliss.