Piss Army

Two soldiers share a cramped tent. Darkness presses in, breath loud, heartbeats louder. Kennedy Carter tears Jake Tyler’s shorts wide open and finds exactly what he wants—an ass that curves just right for a fist. Jake pays him back in the same coin, yanking denim aside so Kennedy’s thick uncut cock springs free. A hot piss stream splashes between them, soaking skin and boots. Jake mounts without warning, lowers himself inch by inch, then rides with short, brutal thrusts. The steady squeeze milks every ridge of Kennedy’s shaft. Kennedy flips him, pins him flat, boots planted, and pounds until both men lose it—thick ropes of cum painting abs, chests, still-twitching holes. Eye to eye, they watch each other come down.