Touch Me

Steve Hammond stumbles through the streets, betrayal carving deep gashes in his chest. Hurt clouds his every step, confusion spins him like a top. Then he collides with Casey Jordan, a lithe young blond, and his boyfriend Race Jensen. They catch the storm in Steve's eyes, offer a ride without a word. Before Steve can steady himself, they're at their place, hands tugging at his shirt, peeling away layers. Hungry mouths descend—lips teasing his firm pecs, tongues tracing the bulge in his crotch. He pushes back, but desire surges, hot and unstoppable, drowning his protests. Casey drops low, spreads Steve's cheeks, and rims him with slow, wicked laps that send shivers racing up his spine. Race kneads that massive upper body, fingers digging into slabs of muscle, then trails down rippled abs to the enormous cock straining free. They worship every inch—savoring the salty skin, the throbbing heat, lips and tongues claiming him whole. Roles flip in a heated blur. Steve grips Casey's jockstrap like a leash, yanks him to his knees, and thrusts into that hot little ass with wild, reckless abandon. Race stuffs Casey's throat full with his huge cock, muffling moans into wet gags. Steve flips Casey onto his back, spreads those legs wide, and plows deep into the tight hole, each stroke a thunderclap of need. His cock swells, loins tightening like a coiled spring. The rush hits—eruption imminent. He pulls out, unleashes thick ropes of cum splashing across Casey's back and ass, marking him in pearly streaks. Race and Casey keep at it, bodies tangled in fresh frenzy, as Steve watches, spent. He dresses quietly, slips away into the night. Casey's face splits into a big, satisfied grin that twists Race's gut with jealousy. Race shoves him down, fucks him into the mattress with punishing rhythm. 'You liked that big guy, didn't you?' he growls, each word a thrust. Casey gasps, arches, but Race doesn't relent. Their cocks pulse, balls drawing tight. Finally, they shatter—hot, thick streams flooding out in waves of release.