Double Whammy

Jack Egan strides home from the gym, muscles humming, only to find his newspaper missing from the stoop. He dials the office, voice low and coaxing, demanding a special delivery. Minutes later, thunder cracks the sky as the newsboy pedals up, drenched and shivering, clothes clinging like a second skin to his lean frame. Jack opens the door wide, eyes lingering on the boy's soaked shirt outlining every ridge of his chest. 'Come in, son,' he murmurs, 'you'll catch your death out there.' The kid hesitates, water dripping from his dark curls, but Jack's words weave their spell—smooth as aged whiskey. Before long, the boy shrugs off his sodden jacket, then peels away the shirt, revealing taut abs glistening with rain. Jack stokes the fire, flames leaping high, casting golden shadows across the room. He guides the young stud closer, hands firm on those slick shoulders. Pants hit the floor next, freeing the boy's hardening cock, thick and eager. Jack drops to his knees, mouth hot and insistent, taking him deep with a rhythm that matches the storm's fury outside. The boy gasps, fingers twisting in Jack's hair, as Jack works him relentlessly—tongue swirling, lips tight. Then Jack rises, shedding his own clothes in a rush, his own erection straining. He bends the kid over the hearth rug, fire warming their skin, and thrusts in hard, claiming every inch. They move together, raw and urgent, the boy's moans blending with the crackle of logs. Sweat mixes with rain, bodies slamming in perfect, pounding sync until release shatters them both, spent and sated by the blaze.