What Goes Around

Sweat still clings to their skin after the gym grind. Jeremy Bilding spots Angelo Marconi in the locker room—a fresh face, all muscle and promise. They head to Jeremy's penthouse, the air thick with unspoken hunger. Jeremy drops to his knees first, his tongue tracing the firm curve of Angelo's ass. He licks slow, spits deliberate, teasing that tight hole until it's slick and ready. Then he dives in, fucking it deep with his tongue. Angelo groans low, yanks his cheek aside, begging for more—deeper, hungrier. Perched on that sleek Eames chair by the penthouse window, Angelo's hole gleams, utterly soaked. Jeremy's not done; he craves it drenched. He flips the Latin stud over, wraps his lips around that throbbing cock, sucking with relentless pull. But Angelo's fire burns too—never one to just take. He shifts Jeremy into place, devours that thick shaft with his mouth, tongue swirling like a storm. Jeremy takes control fast, grips Angelo's head, rams against the back of his throat. The heat surges. Jeremy bends Angelo over the chair, slams his hard cock inside—deep, unyielding. Angelo, born bottom, arches back into every thrust, riding the rhythm like a wave. They tumble to the sofa next. Angelo straddles him, sinks down as Jeremy drives up, filling him completely. At last, Angelo sprawls on his back, legs wide. Jeremy pounds that hole raw until ecstasy hits—they both erupt, ropes of hot seed painting Angelo's tanned belly in sticky triumph.