Bareback In The Warehouse - Part 1

Sure, they could've ducked off somewhere quiet to bang, but that wouldn't get the blood pumping half as hard. An abandoned warehouse feels perfect—wide open, half in shadow, anybody could walk in and see the show. That chance flips something on inside them. Soon Xavier's got the blond's tongue halfway down his throat, hands already working Ricky's zipper. Their cocks spring out, rock-hard, shiny at the tip, and they go straight for it, kneeling, mouths sinking over each other's veiny shafts. There's nothing shy about the sound—wet sucks, sloppy swallows, the fuck-me rasps that prove they're both getting hungry faster than they planned. Clothes hit the ground fast. Xavier shoves Ricky forward, bends him, then pushes that thick cock between the boy's cheeks in one heavy thrust. Skin slaps skin. Every snap of Xavier's hips pulls a strangled moan out of Ricky, makes the sweat on their bodies shine under the warehouse lights. One minute Xavier's gripping tight on the slim waist for leverage, the next he's stroking every dripping inch in before ripping it out till Ricky's hole clamps around just the head. The stud fucks like he's putting on a dirty display, inviting any headlights that might sweep across the graffitied wall. Heat builds. Nobody's holding back when the cum rockets out—hot, messy ropes he smears all over Ricky's back, cheeks, fresh across the blond's split lip when the boy turns his head in hungry reflex, taking every spatter like a gifted shot straight to the face.