Bronc Rider

Sweat gleams on Rod's chiseled chest as he pumps iron, veins bulging with every rep. Across the gym, Dirk mirrors him, his biceps flexing like coiled springs. They steal glances, eyes locking with unspoken hunger. Neither can resist. They drop onto the bench press side by side, thighs brushing, breaths heavy. Rod's hand traces Dirk's thigh, feeling the heat. Clothes peel away—shirts tossed aside, shorts shoved down. Rod's cock springs free, thick and throbbing. Dirk grips it, stroking slow at first, then firm. Rod reciprocates, palming Dirk's heavy balls, thumb circling the tip. They lean in, mouths crashing in a fierce kiss, tongues battling. Sweat slicks their skin as Rod pushes Dirk back onto the bench. He spreads those powerful legs, dives in, tongue lapping at Dirk's hole, tasting salt and desire. Dirk groans, arches, fingers digging into Rod's scalp. Rod rises, positions himself, thrusts deep. They move together, grunts echoing, bodies slamming in rhythm. Sweat pours. Muscles strain. Release builds, explosive, messy, utterly consuming.