Let’s just say the wilderness never knew what hit it the moment Sebastian Bluu and Eddie Patrick finally got those tent flaps zipped shut. The air, thick with pine and pure anticipation, crackled around them, a live wire matching the fire in their eyes. They’d been circling this flame for what felt like an eternity, and the polite waiting was officially over.
Sebastian’s hands weren’t just roaming; they were claiming territory, mapping the solid planes of Eddie’s chest before sliding down with a possessiveness that left no room for doubt. And when he got his hands on what Eddie was working with, a low whistle escaped his lips. Buddy, we’re not just talking well-endowed; we’re talking a goddamn masterpiece, thick and heavy in his grip. The way Sebastian sank to his knees, the hungry look in his eyes before he took every inch deep, was a sight to behold. He handled that magnificent cock like it was his favorite pastime, a skill honed to pure, wet perfection.
But Eddie was done being a passive participant. With a guttural growl, he took control, flipping Sebastian over with an easy strength that was all raw desire. There was no fumbling, no pause—just the slick, heated slide of him pushing in bareback, filling Sebastian up completely. The gasp that tore from Sebastian’s throat was pure, unadulterated ecstasy, swallowed by the rustling leaves. This was the real deal, no cameras, no cuts—just the primal, sweat-slicked rhythm of two bodies moving as one under a blanket of stars, the forest bearing witness to every hungry thrust and gasped promise.
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