Champs

Young Craig Ryan slides into the taxi, fresh off the airport tarmac, and freezes. The driver? None other than Al Parker, that legendary stud with a body carved from pure temptation. Parker's eyes lock on him, bold and hungry, and Ryan surrenders to the pull. They veer onto a forsaken sideroad, tires crunching gravel under the dimming sky. Clothes hit the floor in a frantic heap. Skin meets skin, raw and urgent. Parker takes charge first, pinning Ryan against the worn leather seat, thrusting deep with a growl that echoes in the confined space. But Ryan flips the script, his own thick cock—impossibly bendable—sliding into himself as Parker watches, jaw slack with awe. The air thickens with their shared rhythm, sweat-slick and unbridled, until release crashes over them both.