Splash Shots III, To The Hilt

Roland Dane and Derek Cameron chase a wayward frisbee straight into the neighbor's backyard pool. The disk bobs lazily on the water's surface as Roland stands there, pondering its retrieval. Derek, ever the instigator, shoves him in with a mischievous grin. Soaked and seething, Roland hauls himself out, eyes locked on his friend. He corners Derek against the weathered picnic table, the wood rough under their palms. Derek drops to his knees without a word, wrapping his lips around Roland's stiff prick. He works it with devoted suction, tongue swirling, drawing out low groans from deep in Roland's chest. Roland's turn comes swift—he pushes Derek back, takes that thick cock into his mouth, sucking hard while his fingers probe and stretch Derek's tight asshole, easing it open with slick insistence. As Derek relaxes into the rhythm, yielding inch by inch, Roland grabs the garden hose nearby. He ramps up the pressure, the cool jet surging inside, filling and flushing until Derek gasps, body arching. Roland swaps the hose for his own throbbing spigot, thrusting in deep and energetic, hips snapping with raw need. The summer heat claims them both; they surrender in a frenzy, blowing their loads in shuddering release, sticky evidence of their reckless game.