Backyard Boys

Two sweat-slick bodies writhe in the straw. Blake Daniels kneels behind Blue Bailey, face buried, tongue working deep. Blue rocks back hard, cheeks already glowing from slaps, hole shiny and ready. Blake’s thumb pushes in beside his tongue, stretching the ring wider while his cock hangs heavy and veined, curved like it knows where it wants to go. He lines up and sinks straight in, flesh smacking flesh, balls cracking against Blue’s taint with every thrust. Blue spreads wider, chest dropping lower. Blake barks for him to flip. Blue rolls, shoulders to the ground, legs up. Blake drives back inside, hips snapping, bubble ass flexing, long legs braced like pistons. Blue’s hand flies over his own cock, aiming at his open mouth. Sweat rolls down Blake’s chest and shoulders. His thrusts shorten, grow brutal. Then he pulls out, strokes twice, and shoots thick ropes across Blue’s torso and throat, marking skin already streaked with heat.