Breakaway

Chase Hunter trudges along the wooded trails, the crunch of leaves underfoot his only companion, when a rhythmic hammer's bang cuts through the quiet. He slips closer, peering through a thick grove of trees. There, Alex Kincaid labors over a splintered fence, his powerful swings driving nails home. The hunk's muscles ripple with each strike, sweat tracing glistening paths down his chiseled chest. The afternoon sun climbs higher, baking the air, and Alex peels off his shirt, then his pants. Down to a pair of boxers, his cock teases through the front slit, bold and unapologetic. He glances up, spots Chase watching. No words pass; their eyes lock, and connection sparks like flint on steel. Alex drops to his knees, wraps his lips around Chase's plump shaft, sucking with hungry precision. Chase craves deeper. He spins his partner, grips those firm hips, and thrusts his cock into Alex's ass—fast, furious, relentless. They build to a shattering peak, both exploding in hot, shuddering release.