Drifter

In the gentle hush of their countryside haven, Ken Browning and Sergio Anthony savor a life woven from quiet joys. Towels flap lazily on the clothesline, sun-kissed and drying slow. But beneath that serene facade, desire stirs—raw and insistent. Ken drops to his knees first, his mouth claiming Sergio's hardening cock with a hunger that brooks no delay. Lips stretch wide, tongue swirling along the veined length, sucking deep until Sergio groans, fingers tangling in Ken's hair. Saliva slicks the shaft, dripping hot as Ken bobs faster, cheeks hollowing with each fervent pull. Sergio thrusts forward, fucking Ken's eager throat, the wet sounds echoing like a private symphony amid the birdsong. Soon, they shift—bodies slick with sweat under the open sky. Sergio bends Ken over the wooden fence, spreads those firm cheeks, and drives his cock inside, bare and unrelenting. He pounds deep, hips snapping with rhythmic force, balls slapping against skin as Ken moans, pushing back to meet every plunge. They fuck like the world could shatter tomorrow—urgent, primal, lost in the slick heat of their union.