Manhole

Three years back, at the end of a grueling shift in the factory's hum and heat, Jake Dakota, Dak Ramsey, and Vin Nolan stripped away their sweat-soaked clothes. Fabric hit the floor in hasty piles. Eyes wandered, locking on the swelling bulges straining against thin cotton briefs. Jake's gaze lingered on Dak's thickening outline, bold and insistent. A smirk tugged at Vin's lips as he palmed his own rising need. The air thickened with unspoken hunger. Hands reached out—Jake's fingers tracing Dak's waistband, pulling it down to free the hard length that sprang forth, heavy and eager. Vin stepped closer, his breath hot against Jake's neck, while Dak gripped Vin's hips, yanking him in. Lips crashed together in a frenzy of tongues and teeth. Bodies pressed tight, cocks grinding slick with sweat. Jake dropped to his knees first, mouth enveloping Dak's shaft in one smooth slide, sucking deep as Vin's fingers tangled in his hair. They took turns then—Dak bending Vin over a workbench, thrusting in with a guttural groan, while Jake watched, stroking himself until he joined, filling the space behind Dak in a rhythm that built like a storm.