Ranger

Deep in the forest, Derek Foster spots two campers, Brad Star and Ken Mack, still buzzed from the night before. They crash through the underbrush, laughing loud, their voices echoing off the trees. He steps forward, uniform crisp against the wild green, urging them to pipe down, to respect the quiet dawn. But numbers favor them—two against one. They lunge, swift and sure, pinning him to the damp earth. Hands tear at his shirt, exposing skin to the cool air. Brad's mouth claims Derek's neck, hot and insistent, while Ken yanks open the ranger's belt, freeing his hardening cock to the morning light. They strip him bare, bodies pressing close, their own arousal evident in the bulge of jeans. Derek gasps as Brad's fingers probe, slick with spit, stretching him open. Ken thrusts first, deep and unrelenting, filling Derek with a rhythm that shakes the leaves above. They switch, Brad pounding in next, grunts mingling with Derek's moans—surrender turning to hunger. Sweat slicks their skin, the forest air thick with musk, as they take him fully, leaving the uniformed man spent and marked on the forest floor.