Happy Campers

Arno Antino lounges against a mossy log, eyes fixed on Malik Delgaty’s swinging axe and the ripple of muscle that follows every strike. Sweat darkens the plaid shirt clinging to Malik’s back. When the last log splits, Malik drops the axe, opens his fly, and hauls out a thick cock already darkening at the tip. Arno sinks to his knees in pine needles, lips parting around that heat. He sucks slow, then greedy, spit shining down the shaft while Malik’s hand fists in his hair. Soon the lumberjack pulls him up, spins him, and presses the blunt head against Arno’s hole. One steady push and Malik sinks inside, bare, stretching him wide under the open sky. They fuck standing, Malik’s hips snapping hard enough to shake the branches overhead. Every few thrusts he yanks free, feeds his cock straight into Arno’s mouth, lets him taste his own ass, then drives back in. The rhythm grows ragged. Arno’s moans pitch higher. Malik’s grip tightens. At the edge he pulls out, strokes once, twice, and paints Arno’s open mouth and flushed cheeks with thick ropes that drip onto the forest floor.