Ty Colt Fucks Rusty

Pairing two straight guys with fire in their veins always sparks something electric. For Ty, this is uncharted territory—no man's touched him like this before. His buddies and kin have no clue he's diving in headfirst. Yet this golden boy, all-American charm and quiet hunger, steps up without a flinch, casting aside every doubt. Rusty knows the terrain well, a few detours under his belt. He eyes Ty, hoping for a thick one—not monstrous, mind you. Game on, he's eager to guide the novice through the heat. Lucky bastard's got a woman who sees no betrayal here, just raw thrill. And us? We get ringside seats to her man taking it deep. Clothes hit the floor in a rush. Rusty drops to his knees, lips wrapping around Ty's thick shaft, swallowing every inch with practiced ease. Ty's world tilts—eyes wide, breath ragged—as the hot mouth works him over, pulling moans he never knew he had. Lubed and throbbing, Ty presses in, his cock breaching Rusty's tight ring. The slide is velvet fire, sublime and gripping. Rusty growls commands: deeper, faster, just like that—fuck me hard. Ty obeys, pounding with a rhythm that builds like a storm, delivering the relentless thrusts his partner begs for. Sweat slicks their skin; pleasure twists their faces. They savor it all, lost in the raw pulse of discovery. Rusty flips to his back, Ty's hardness still buried deep inside. He strokes himself fierce and fast, body arching as he erupts—ropes of cum splattering across his taut belly. Ty withdraws then, hand flying over his slick length, and unleashes his own flood, painting Rusty's eager form in warm, sticky tribute. What a rush.