The Other Side Of Aspen II

Lee Stern's car sputters and dies just as the open road beckons. He pulls over, curses under his breath, and dials for a tow truck. The wait drags, but soon a rumble announces O.G. Johnson, the mechanic with grease-streaked arms and a knowing grin. Johnson's truck idles like a predator. He climbs out, broad-shouldered and unhurried, eyes locking on Stern with intent. No words wasted. Johnson unzips his overalls, revealing his huge black cock, thick and veined, already hardening in the afternoon light. Stern's breath catches. He meant to hit the highway for vacation, but this— this demands attention. Johnson steps closer, the air thick with musk and promise. Stern drops to his knees on the gravel shoulder, mouth watering as he takes the length, lips stretching around the girth. Johnson groans, fingers tangling in Stern's hair, guiding the rhythm—deep, insistent thrusts that make Stern's jaw ache in the best way. Enough foreplay. Johnson hauls Stern up, spins him toward the truck's open back. They climb in, the metal bed warm from the sun. Stern strips fast, pants pooling at his ankles, ass exposed and eager. Johnson slicks himself with spit, then presses in—slow at first, that massive cock breaching Stern's tight heat, inch by relentless inch. Stern gasps, fists the blanket beneath him. Johnson builds speed, hips snapping, balls slapping against skin. The truck rocks with their urgency, a private thunder. Stern's vacation? Forgotten. Buried under waves of pleasure as Johnson claims him, pounding until release crashes through them both, hot and unyielding.