California Dreamin' 2

Trenton Ducati presses nipple to nipple, navel to navel against Donnie Dean, their mouths locked in a hungry kiss. The thin fabric of their skimpy swim trunks strains against the rigid swell of their cocks. Donnie drops low, seizing the bull by the horns—and what a horn it is. Firm and fat, thick at the tip and thicker at the base, curving upward like a promise to tease any willing prostate. He takes it deep, throat stuffed full. As Donnie sucks, Trenton seizes his hand, guiding it over the sleek, hard ridges of his torso. He spins Donnie toward the wall, teeth and fingers yanking down the swimsuit. That high, round bubble butt captures Trenton's gaze; he kneads the firm cheeks, spreads them wide with greedy palms. Donnie collapses onto the bed. Trenton plunges a finger into his hole, the other hand slapping those buns with sharp, stinging smacks. Donnie grinds against the sheets, lost in the raw thrill as Trenton's tongue laps and probes, slick and insistent. Trenton stretches out atop him, his throbbing cock sliding along the cleft like a surfer chasing the perfect wave. Then he thrusts in, spearing Donnie's hole deep. They shift from doggy to missionary, then Donnie rides him hard in a sitting grind, milking every pulse of ecstasy until they spill, draining every last drop. Donnie licks up the cum with the same eager devotion he savored the attention.