The Guys Next Door, Part 2

Trystan Bull steps out of the steaming hot tub, water sluicing down his taut skin. He runs a hand over his cock, rubbing it through the damp fabric of his undies. With a slow tug, he peels them off, freeing his uncut length. He strokes it lazily, eyes tracing its impressive form—what's not to savor? This is prime manhood: long and thick, meaty with a flared head nestled just right under that supple foreskin. He's not alone in his gaze. Marcus Mojo watches from across the way, hunger sharpening his stare. Trystan catches it, flashes a knowing smile, and angles his hips to flaunt a bit more. The invitation hangs electric in the air. Marcus closes the distance, drops to his knees, and claims his prize—the throbbing cock rising from Trystan's sculpted frame. He engulfs it, lips sliding from head to base, saliva glazing every inch. If cocksucking were an Olympic event, Marcus would own the podium, medals dangling from his neck. No man alive throats a dick with such effortless depth, turning raw need into art. His reward erupts in forceful jets of cum, painting his tongue from Trystan's pulsing shaft. Smug satisfaction warms Marcus as he rises, hand pumping his own release in thick, triumphant spurts.