Dirt Bikes

Dave Conners, Ty Granger, and Kyle Hazzaard roar their dirt bikes into the shadowed garage, engines growling like hungry beasts. Dust settles as they dismount, eyes locking with raw intent. Clothes hit the concrete in a hurried scatter—jeans yanked down, shirts peeled off. Ty drops to his knees first, lips parting for Dave's thick, veined cock, already straining and impossibly fat. Kyle circles them, hands roaming, stroking his own hardening length while watching the heat build. Dave grips Ty's hair, guiding that eager mouth deeper. Saliva slicks the shaft as Ty sucks hard, tongue swirling the swollen head. Kyle joins in, kneeling to lap at Dave's heavy balls, the three of them a tangle of sweat and need. They shift, bodies pressing close. Dave lifts Ty, bends him over a workbench, and thrusts in—long, deep strokes that split him wide. Ty gasps, back arching, as that massive cock plunges to the hilt, stretching him with every deliberate push and pull. Kyle feeds Ty his dick from the front, muffling those moans. Dave pounds harder, hips snapping, balls slapping skin. Ty comes first, shuddering, spilling over the edge without a touch. Dave doesn't stop; he flips Ty to the ground, pins him there, and drives in again—relentless, rhythmic, chasing his own release. Cum paints Ty's chest, then Dave's floods deep inside, hot and thick. But they're far from done. Kyle takes his turn, fucking Ty's mouth while Dave recovers, that fat cock still twitching. They rotate, sweat-slicked and insatiable. Orgasms ripple through them—Ty again, clenching around Kyle's thrusts; Kyle erupting down his throat; Dave reclaiming Ty's ass for another round of those unyielding, gut-deep strokes. The afternoon bleeds into golden haze, their grunts echoing off the walls, bodies locked in endless, grinding ecstasy.