Road Trip, Vol. 2: Santa Cruz

Under the dim Santa Cruz moon, Danny Taggart and Guy Parker sought refuge amid jagged piles of driftwood. Salt air clung to their skin as they tangled together, bodies pressing into the cool sand. Danny's hands roamed Guy's chest, fingers tracing the hard lines of muscle before dipping lower. He stripped Guy bare, exposing him to the night's whisper. Guy arched, eager, his cock already straining against the chill. Danny knelt, taking Guy's length into his mouth—slow, deliberate sucks that drew gasps from deep in Guy's throat. Spit slicked the way as Danny worked him, tongue swirling around the tip until Guy bucked, begging for more. They shifted. Danny flipped Guy onto his back, legs hoisted high. No barriers between them; Danny thrust in raw, filling Guy's tight heat with one smooth push. Guy's ass gripped him like a vice, unyielding and hungry. Danny pounded deeper, hips snapping with rhythm—short, fierce drives mixing with languid grinds that made Guy's toes curl. The driftwood shadows danced as Danny piledrove into him, relentless, chasing that edge. Guy moaned, body quaking, pleasure ripping through him until he spilled across his own stomach. Danny followed, spilling hot inside, leaving Guy limp and whimpering in the afterglow, spent and utterly wrecked.