Flashpoint: Hot As Hell

In the dim haze of the backwoods bar, Scott Baldwin and Hal Rockland tangle with a pack of rough-hewn rednecks, fists flying like sparks from a struck match. Rob Costa grabs Hal by the collar, forces him down to his knees in the grit-strewn floor. Hal's mouth stretches around Rob's thick cock, the brute thrusting deep, grunting as he claims every inch. Across the room, Joe Spears hauls Scott Baldwin out the back door into the cool night air, shoving him against the rough wooden wall. Joe unzips, feeds his rigid length past Scott's lips, pumping steadily until saliva gleams on his shaft. Then Joe's hands roam lower, fingers probing Scott's tight ass, slicking and stretching him open with rough intent. Without mercy, Joe drives his cock in deep, burying himself to the hilt. He fucks Scott hard, hips slamming forward in a relentless rhythm that echoes off the alley walls, Scott's gasps swallowed by the shadows. But Hal shakes free from the bar's chaos, bursts into the night like a storm breaking. He yanks Joe off Scott, fists swinging once more, and the two men bolt to their car, tires screeching as they speed away into the dark.