Hustle And Cruise

Jason Adonis's phone buzzed late, the name on the screen pulling a smirk from his lips—Eddie Stone, that chiseled dream with eyes that promised trouble. 'Get over here,' Eddie's voice rumbled, low and urgent, a last-minute summons Jason couldn't refuse. He arrived to hands that knew exactly where to linger, Eddie's fingers tracing Jason's sculpted chest, teasing nipples to peaks before sliding lower. Special treatment unfolded like a secret ritual: lips wrapped around Jason's thickening shaft, tongue swirling with expert hunger, sucking him deep until he throbbed against the back of Eddie's throat. Those hands roamed further, cupping heavy balls, probing the tight ring of Jason's ass with slick fingers that pushed in slow, deliberate strokes, milking moans from him as pleasure coiled tight. Jason flipped the script then, pinning Eddie to the bed. He gripped his straight, rigid cock—veins pulsing, head slick with pre-cum—and drove it home. Deep into that nice, muscular ass, walls clenching like a velvet vice, Eddie arched and gasped, riding the rhythm as Jason pounded harder, hips slamming with raw need. Sweat slicked their skin; breaths tangled in the dim light. Climax hit Jason like a thunderclap—he pulled out at the last second, stroking furiously, and ropes of hot cum arced high, splattering across Eddie's open eye, dripping down his flushed cheek in a sticky claim. Panting, Jason wiped a thumb across the mess, his voice steady amid the afterglow. 'I don't mix business with pleasure.' Eddie's laugh cut through the haze, eyes locking with a spark that said this was no ordinary transaction—something electric, unspoken, had just ignited between them.