Nightwatchmen

Coby Mitchell, the chiseled janitor, grimaces as he hauls the overflowing trash bins. It's a thankless grind. Wolf Hudson, the sharp-suited executive, has buried himself in endless meetings—no room for fun. Their paths cross in the dim office corridor. Eyes lock. Sparks fly. Lust ignites like a forbidden spark in dry tinder. Wolf drops to his knees without a word. He unzips Coby's uniform pants, frees the thick cock straining against fabric. His mouth engulfs it, hungry and urgent, tongue swirling around the swollen head. Coby groans, fingers tangling in Wolf's hair. The exec doesn't stop there—he spreads those firm cheeks, dives in to rim the janitor's ass with wet, insistent laps, savoring the musky heat. Now Coby takes charge. He pushes Wolf against the wall, sinks to his own knees. His lips wrap around the executive's rigid shaft, sucking with practiced skill—deep throating, teasing the underside with flicks of his tongue. Wolf's breaths come ragged, hips bucking involuntarily. Aroused beyond reason, Wolf claims his authority. He grabs a thick dildo from the nearby supply cart, slicks it up, and eases it into Coby's tight hole. The janitor arches, moaning as it stretches him wide. Wolf works it in and out, building the fire. Then he discards it, positions his own throbbing dick at the entrance, and thrusts deep. Coby gasps at the invasion, the raw fullness of that stiff rod buried to the hilt. The intensity peaks as Coby straddles Wolf, riding that cock with fierce rhythm—up and down, grinding his hips in circles. Sweat slicks their bodies. Pleasure coils tight. They erupt together, hot loads spilling in shuddering release.