Against The Rules

Out in the crisp autumn air, Mac Reynolds and Eric Nolte spot their coach, Josh Kincaid, swinging an axe with steady power, splitting logs like they owed him money. Steam rises from his broad back as he works. He glances up, wipes sweat from his brow, and waves them over. 'Come inside, boys. Warm up by the fire.' They follow him into the cabin, the scent of pine and smoke wrapping around them. No time for small talk—they dive straight in. Mac leans close to Eric, his voice low and teasing. 'You know what they say about Kincaid's cock? Thick as your wrist, blond curls at the base, veined just right.' Eric's eyes widen, pulse quickening. Kincaid catches the whisper and grins. 'Sounds like you're both curious. Why not get comfortable?' Clothes hit the floor in a rustle—jackets, shirts, pants pooling at their feet. Mac drops first, kneeling to wrap his lips around Kincaid's heavy shaft, sucking with hungry pulls that draw a groan from the coach. Eric watches, then takes his turn, tongue tracing the salty length, cheeks hollowing as he works deeper. But it's the blond cadet, Eric, who truly yields. Kincaid bends him over the rough-hewn table, spreads those firm cheeks, and thrusts in slow at first—inch by thick inch—stretching him wide. Mac joins, slicking himself before plunging alongside, the two men pounding Eric nice and long, hard and relentless, until his moans echo off the cabin walls like a siren's call.