Wildfire

Lost in the whispering shadows of the ancient forest, Johnny Brosnan stumbles through the underbrush, heart pounding. Enter Addison Scott, the enigmatic woodsman with eyes like smoldering embers. He extends a callused hand, pulling Johnny from the tangle of roots. These two studs, built like the trees they revere, know the true worth of lumber. Addison's axe gleams in the dappled light, but it's their other tools that spark the real fire. Rough hands grip firm asses. Lips crash in hungry kisses. Johnny drops to his knees, taking Addison's thick cock deep, throat working with urgent rhythm. Addison growls, flipping him onto a bed of moss, pounding relentlessly—skin slapping skin, sweat mingling with earth. They thrust and grind, bodies arching in raw ecstasy, until release shatters them both. Spent, satisfied, you'll ache for an encore.