Blind Lust

Mason Wyler leans in close to Jesse Santana, who's draped in nothing but a towel, and whispers his sly scheme: pairing their buddies for steamy one-on-one romps. Jesse catches on quick—they're the leftovers in this lusty lineup. No time wasted. He dives into Mason with a fierce kiss, tongues tangling like sparks in dry tinder. The towel slips free, pooling at Jesse's feet, and Mason drops to his knees, pajama bottoms hugging his hips. He latches onto Jesse's massive, rigid cock, sucking it deep into his throat with greedy pulls that echo wet and urgent. The thrill surges through Mason; his own thick, uncut shaft thrusts free from his waistband, begging for attention. Jesse spots it, grins wicked, and yanks those bottoms down. He spins Mason around, then sinks low, mouth claiming that foreskin—teasing it with slick spit and sharp little bites that make Mason shudder. Jesse slicks his fingers with saliva and slides them into Mason's hungry ass, stretching it open for the pounding to come. Minutes later, Jesse plants himself on the couch, and Mason straddles him, impaling on that thick rod. He rides hard, bouncing with abandon, each slam drawing a raw moan from his lips. Mason shifts to all fours, offering his primed hole. Jesse drives in deep, long strokes from his scorching cock, ripping fresh cries of bliss from Mason's core. Craving the finish, Mason begs for Jesse's load. The rut peaks in a frenzy, and Jesse unloads straight into his open mouth. The taste ignites Mason—he erupts across his own chest in thick, hot ropes.