Open House

The empty house echoes with silence, a blank canvas waiting for new life. Real estate agent Craig Slater strides through the rooms, his polished suit hugging his frame, while Mark Fisher lingers behind, eyes sharp with intent—not on the property, but on the man showing it. Mark's here to make a deposit, alright, one that has nothing to do with escrow. Craig drops to his knees first, fingers deft as they unzip Mark's jeans and free his hardening cock. He takes it in, lips sealing around the shaft, tongue swirling with practiced hunger. Mark groans, the sound raw in the vacant space. He tugs at Craig's tie, peels off the jacket and shirt, exposing smooth skin. Pants follow, pooling at ankles. Mark's turn now—he guides Craig's head down, thrusting deep into that warm throat until Craig gags softly, eyes watering with need. But Mark craves more. He spins Craig around, spreads those firm cheeks, and dives in with his tongue, rimming the agent's tight hole, lapping circles that make Craig buck and moan. Aroused beyond reason, Craig rises, voice husky: his time. He turns Mark to the wall, slicks his own throbbing cock with spit, and slides in deep—inch by unyielding inch—claiming the young stud's ass. They move like predators in heat. Craig bends Mark over the kitchen counter, pounding with fierce rhythm. Then to the floor, Mark on all fours, Craig gripping hips and slamming home. Against the bedroom wall next, legs wrapped, bodies slick with sweat. Merciless, he drives on, each thrust a thunderclap until Mark spills first, hot seed arcing across the bare floor. Craig follows, burying deep and unleashing his load inside, both men collapsing in a tangle of spent limbs.