Winner's Way

Dirk's wife had dashed off to the shops, leaving her restless husband and her burly older brother alone on the apartment's dimly lit hallway stairs. The air thickened with unspoken temptation. 'Should we, or shouldn't we?' The question hung there, a spark to dry tinder. Lust exploded between them like a summer storm—raw, unbridled, bodies crashing together in a frenzy of heat and muscle. Two rugged men, all sinew and sweat, ground against each other with primal force, their passion a he-man tangle of grunts and grips. Big brother seized the moment, his mouth descending on Dirk's thick, throbbing stud cock, sucking it deep with hungry pulls that made Dirk's thighs quake. He didn't stop there. Kneeling lower, he spread those firm cheeks and devoured Dirk's smooth white ass, tongue lashing in with wicked precision, tasting every inch until Dirk bucked against the stair's edge. Dirk flipped the script then, his eyes dark with need. He mounted big brother's tight, yielding ass, sliding in slow at first, then pounding long and hard, the stairs creaking under their rhythm. Each thrust echoed their forbidden fire, bodies slick and locked in urgent harmony. This wasn't their debut rodeo—far from it. But as the haze cleared and they caught their breath, a grim certainty settled in. They couldn't risk this again, no matter how the memory burned.