Hot Property

Roman Heart swings open the front door, and there stand the movers, right on time. The studly Rafael Alencar dives in, packing boxes with swift efficiency, hauling the heavy ones into position for pickup. Sweat beads on his brow from the strain. Roman watches, eyes lingering, then suggests a break. 'Let me massage those sore muscles,' he says, voice low and inviting. Rafael smirks—he knows exactly which muscle Roman has in mind, the one throbbing with promise beneath his jeans. They collide in a heated embrace, lips crashing together in a hungry kiss that tastes of salt and desire. Roman drops to his knees, eager, unzipping Rafael to free that swollen, uncut dick. He takes it deep, swallowing every thick inch down his throat, the girth stretching his lips wide. He nearly gags on the relentless length, but pushes on, savoring the pulse against his tongue. Rafael grips his hair and facefucks him hard, thrusting with raw power, claiming that willing mouth. Finally, Rafael eases back, pulling Roman up for a breath. He returns the favor, dropping low to wrap his lips around Roman's rigid cock, sucking with expert rhythm, drawing out moans that echo through the empty room. But Rafael craves more. He spins Roman around, spreads those firm cheeks, and dives in—licking the puckered cleft with slow, slurping laps of his tongue, teasing the tight ring until it quivers and begs. Satisfied, Rafael positions himself and crashes through Roman's back door, burying deep in one forceful thrust. He delivers the goods, pounding with unyielding drive. They shift—missionary on the floor, doggy against the wall—each angle hitting new depths, bodies slick and grinding. Tension builds like a storm. Rafael unloads first, flooding Roman with hot release. Roman follows seconds later, spilling his own load in shuddering waves of ecstasy.