Dirt Bikes

The sun beat down on the cracked asphalt as Kent Tucker and Dennis Love, two rough-edged white punks bouncing along in their battered truck, spotted Mandingo thumbing for a ride. His dark skin gleamed under the heat, broad shoulders straining against a faded shirt. They pulled over with a gravelly skid, grins sharp as switchblades. 'Hop in, big man,' Kent drawled, eyes raking over Mandingo's muscled frame. Dennis leaned across the seat, door swinging wide, his hand brushing Mandingo's thigh as he climbed aboard. The cab filled with the scent of sweat and cheap cigarettes. They drove into the hills, conversation laced with crude jokes that turned flirtatious, then hungry. Mandingo's laugh rumbled low at first, but Kent's fingers traced his arm, Dennis's knee pressing against his. Soon, hands roamed freely—Kent unbuckling Mandingo's belt with practiced ease, Dennis whispering promises that dissolved into commands. They veered off the road, tires crunching over dry scrub, until the truck shuddered to a halt in a secluded hollow. Out in the open air, clothes hit the dirt. Kent and Dennis worked Mandingo like a fever dream, their pale bodies pinning his darker one against the truck's warm hood. Kent's mouth claimed his, rough and insistent, while Dennis knelt, tongue teasing the heavy length of Mandingo's cock until it throbbed rigid. They flipped him then, bending him over the tailgate, ass exposed to the relentless sun. Lube slicked from a glove compartment bottle, Dennis spread those firm cheeks wide, fingers probing deep, stretching the tight ring with deliberate thrusts. Mandingo gasped, muscles clenching, but they held him fast—Kent's grip on his hips bruising, Dennis's cock plunging in first, thick and unyielding, pounding a rhythm that echoed off the rocks. Kent took his turn next, slamming home with a groan, the two of them alternating, filling Mandingo's ass until it gaped, slick with their cum and his own reluctant moans. They fucked him raw, bodies slapping in the dust-choked heat, until satisfaction curled through them like smoke. Spent, they pulled out, leaving him sprawled, hole twitching open, seed dripping down his thighs. With a casual laugh, they zipped up, climbed back in the truck, and roared off. Mandingo lay there in the roadside dirt, abandoned under the blazing sky, the echo of their engine fading into silence.