Nature Calls

Dex Devall came ready for a hike, not for Hunter Mason's thick cock. The mountain air hits different when you're choking on it. Behind the trees, away from any trail, Dex works that heavy slab down his throat, spit dripping while Hunter flexes above him. The real heat waits back at the cabin, perched over the valley. Hunter spreads him wide, tongue first, then buries his raw length in Dex's dense fur. Every thrust pushes deeper into that matted bush until Hunter unloads, painting white streaks across the dark hair.