Big Timber

Josh Weston, Brad Benton, and Joe Foster trek toward the logging site, but a sharp crack pulls them off course. Jerek stands there, rifle raised, sighting down the barrel at a sleek black falcon perched in the branches—an endangered beauty, oblivious to the threat. The trio charges in, righteous fury blazing. They wrench the weapon from his grip, barrels still warm. 'Cops or our way,' Joe growls, his eyes locking on Jerek with a promise far darker than any badge. Jerek hesitates, pulse quickening, then nods. Submission tastes like the thrill he's craved. Joe's hands claim him first—rough, insistent, stripping away shirt and pride in the dappled forest light. Jerek's breath hitches as Joe pins him against a tree, lips crashing down, tongue demanding entry while fingers dig into hips, pulling him closer. Brad and Josh watch, then join, their touches electric: Brad's mouth on Jerek's neck, sucking hard enough to mark; Josh's hand sliding into jeans, stroking the hardening length with expert twists. Jerek moans, surrendering fully—Joe's cock thrusts deep, relentless rhythm building as the others tease nipples and balls, every sensation a delicious torment. He comes undone, realizing this erotic reckoning is the punishment he's secretly hungered for all along.