Winner Takes All

Randy Page lounged by the pool, the sun kissing his bare skin in lazy waves. His eyes drifted to Scott O'Hara, the gardener, methodically watering the lush beds nearby. Scott's strong hands gripped the hose, directing the spray with practiced ease, and Randy couldn't help but wonder what that thick length might feel like aimed elsewhere. A sly grin tugged at Randy's lips. He called out, voice casual yet laced with intent. Scott glanced up, wiping sweat from his brow, and nodded. Break time, he said, setting the watering can aside. They moved to the shaded edge of the pool, the air thick with chlorine and unspoken hunger. Scott turned the hose on low, the cool stream hitting Randy's skin like a teasing whisper. He directed it lower, cleaning him out with firm, deliberate jets—rinsing away the day's heat, preparing him with a gardener's precision. Randy arched, breath hitching as the water filled and flushed, every pulse sending shivers through his core. Satisfied, Scott dropped to his knees. He shed his work pants, revealing his own rigid 10-inch hose, veined and throbbing like forbidden fruit. Randy spread his legs wider, inviting the plunge. Scott thrust in deep, no hesitation, filling Randy completely. They rocked together, the pool water lapping at their sides, Scott's hips snapping with raw power. Randy gasped, nails digging into Scott's back, as that impressive length stretched and claimed him, wave after relentless wave.