All American Boys – Scene 3

Title: “Anal Adventure in Retro Style”

INT. BEDROOM – NIGHT

The dim amber glow of the vintage lampshade casts a soft shadow across the room. Two hunks, JOHNNY and TIM, are wrapped in each other’s arms, their tongues intertwined in a heated makeout session. The air is heavy with the scent of testosterone and arousal.

Johnny’s hand slides down Tim’s chiseled chest, tracing the contours of his abs before settling on his crotch. He gives Tim’s bulge a firm squeeze, earning a low moan from the athletic stud. Tim reciprocates by tugging at Johnny’s belt, eager to free the beast within.

Without breaking their passionate liplock, they clumsily shed their clothes, rendering themselves bare. The sight of their rippling muscles and impressive endowments would make even the most seasoned pornstar blush. Tim licks his lips in anticipation as he beholds Johnny’s daunting girth.

Tim drops to his knees, his face mere inches from the throbbing flesh. He takes a long, slow lick from base to tip, savoring the salty precum that coats Johnny’s throbbing shaft. Johnny gasps, his fingers intertwining with Tim’s hair.

Tim wraps his lips around the swollen head, his tongue swirling around the sensitive glans. He takes inch after inch into his mouth, the thick cock hitting the back of his throat. Johnny groans, his eyes fluttering shut as he loses himself in the wet heat of Tim’s skilled mouth.

While bobbing up and down Johnny’s shaft, Tim slides a finger between his own cheeks, circling his tight hole. The dual stimulation has him leaking precum like a faucet.

Johnny pulls Tim off his cock, a string of saliva connecting his member to Tim’s lips. He manhandles Tim onto the bed, divesting the stud of his clothes. Naked flesh grinds against naked flesh as they rut like bunnies in heat.

Johnny flips Tim onto his hands and knees, giving his firm rump a punishing smack. Tim yelps, his hole clenching in response. Johnny spits into the crevice, his thumb delving into the tight hole. Tim’s body yields to the probing digit, his cock weeping freely.

“Fuck me, Johnny,” Tim begs, humping back on the thick thumb buried inside him.

Johnny obliges, spitting into his hand before gripping his thick rod. He notches the swollen mushroom head against Tim’s fluttering hole, breaching the ringed muscle. Inch by glorious inch, he sinks into the scorching heat.

Tim keens, his fingers digging into the sheets. The burn of the initial penetration gives way to sheer bliss as Johnny’s girthy cock stretches him to the limit. He rocks back, meeting Johnny’s thrusts as the two find their rhythm.

They rut like animals, grunting and groaning with each powerful thrust. Sweat gleams on their bodies, adding to the erotic spectacle. The lewd squelch of Johnny’s cock sliding in and out of Tim’s sloppy hole fills the room.

Johnny snakes a hand around to pump Tim’s drooling shaft, adding to the overwhelming sensations. Tim babbles incoherently, his words drowned out by his wails of ecstasy.

Trickles of sweat roll down their marathoners’ build, encounters with ghostly road Kill. Johnny leans down, his teeth grazing against Tim’s shoulder as he pounds into him. The pain-pleasure mix has Tim’s neglected cock spurting, coating the sheets beneath them.

Tim’s tight walls flutter around Johnny’s pistoning cock, gripping him like a vice. Johnny grits his teeth, his owns climax barreling toward him like a freight train. With one last powerful thrust, he buries himself to the hilt and stills.

Thick ropes of cum paint Tim’s inner walls, marking him as Johnny’s. The warmth of the creamy load pushed Tim over the edge a second time. His cock pulses, dribbling the last of his release onto the already sticky bedsheets.

Exhausted but satiated, the two athletes collapse onto the mattress, limbs entwined. Johnny automatically reaches for a puddle of oil, slicking up their cocks. He slides into Tim a second time, giving the stud a gentle thrust.

“Again?” Tim pants, his hole already so sensitive.

“Just one more time,” Johnny promises, proceeding to fuck him with long, languid strokes.

Tim whimpers, his arms giving out underneath him. He crashes chest-first onto the mattress, his face buried in the pillow. Johnny grips his hips, the slapping of skin on skin and the crude squelch of his cock in Tim’s sopping hole accompanies the slurping of cum and oil.

“You’re going to be so sore tomorrow,” Johnny rumbles, his muscular thighs tensing.

“Worth it,” Tim slurs, his cock projected with a final load.

Johnny pumps his hips a few more times before spilling his final load into Tim’s spent hole. The excess trickles out, adding to the filthy mess. Johnny takes a moment to admire his handywork before fluidly pulling out.

They flop onto their backs, their chests heaving. The room is filled with the aroma of sex and sweat, a testament to their raunchy activities. They bask in the afterglow, reveling in the feeling of being thoroughly used.

Postcoital, they share a tender kiss, their tongues twining languidly. It’s a stark contrast to the animalistic rutting from earlier. They smuggle close, limbs entwined and claiming each other’s space.

“Fuck,” Tim whispers against Johnny’s ear. “We so need to do that again.”

Johnny chuckles lowly. “Anytime, baby. Anytime.”

They share one last kiss before drifting off to sleep, the scent of sex and cum clinging to their bodies and the mattress. It’s a small room that has seen too much – cheap motel rooms, squeaky bedsprings in the middle of the night, the sound of voice, the question of a refuge, the question of a home. Johnny drifts off to a sound slumber, Tim’s head resting on his chest.