Waterworks

Rick Bolton's hand glides along his hardening cock as the fantasy ignites. In his mind's eye, preppy stud Randy Mixer drops to his knees before the rugged, dark-haired auto mechanic Johnny Roma. Randy's lips wrap tight around Johnny's thick shaft, sucking with eager precision—tongue swirling, throat relaxing to take him deep. Johnny groans, gripping the edge of his workbench, the scent of oil and sweat thick in the garage air. Randy rises, eyes locked on Johnny's, and spins him around. He slicks his own rigid length with spit, then presses the tip against Johnny's firm ass. One slow push, and he's in—stretching, filling. Randy thrusts hard, pinning Johnny against the gleaming hot rod, metal cool against flushed skin. Each pump builds the rhythm: hips snapping, bodies slapping, Johnny's low moans echoing off the concrete walls. Randy's control shatters first. He pulls out, strokes himself furiously, and unleashes ropes of hot cum across Johnny's back, marking him like territory claimed. Johnny turns, his own cock throbbing untouched, and with a guttural curse, he erupts—spurting thick streams that splatter Randy's chest in sticky triumph.