Ranch Hands

Kyle Becker and Joshua Scott collide in a frenzy of raw need. Kyle grips Joshua's head, thrusting deep into his mouth, fucking his face with relentless rhythm. Joshua gags but pushes back, sucking hard, tongue swirling around Kyle's shaft like a man possessed. They switch, Joshua's cock plunging past Kyle's lips, hips bucking wildly. Sweat slicks their skin as Kyle drops lower, spreading Joshua's cheeks to lap at his ass, tongue probing the tight ring with hungry strokes. Joshua moans, arching into it, then flips Kyle over for his turn—rimming deep, fingers teasing the puckered entrance. They tumble into a 69, mouths devouring cocks and asses in equal measure, bodies grinding together. Kyle mounts Joshua next, slamming into his ass with punishing force, each drive pulling guttural cries from them both. Joshua flips the script, pounding Kyle's hole until muscles quiver and release. They go at it like sex-starved fiends, chasing peaks that crash and shatter. But as the haze clears, Kyle lies there, chest heaving, a hollow ache gnawing inside. Dissatisfaction coils tight in his gut. He slips away at dawn, driving to his dad's ranch, the endless fields a quiet mirror to the mess of his life.