Mountain Tops Part 2

The Jeep's roll bar, sturdy and unyielding, finds its truest calling when it bends a cute guy like Jackson Taylor over for a thorough fucking. Jason Stark takes the reins, his hands eager. Shirts peel away in the heat. Jason crouches, tugging Jackson's shorts down slow. Jackson dangles from the bar, arms stretched high, exposing those damn sexy pits. Jason's jeans slip, flashing a teasing plumber's crack. Every inch of Jackson screams invitation—his torso arches like a plea, one hand tracing the curve of his neck with deliberate grace. He dives in, face smashing into Jason's groin, hands and mouth hunting cock and balls with feral hunger. He stuffs that hard meat into his cheeks' warm hollows, then deeper, into the tight recesses of his throat. They clamber into the Jeep next, feet planted on the seat, bodies thrusting up through the open top. Jackson bends forward, hips hoisted high to greet Jason's relentless drives. Jason pounds him against the frame, slamming until Jackson has no room left to yield. They spill to the ground, the rhythm unbroken. Jackson mounts him in the crab, that tight, tan-lined ass shaking wild as he rides. They erupt together, spent and sated in the dust.