I’m standing under the showerhead in the locker room, water running down my shaved head, tattoos glistening. I’ve been watching you from the corner — subtle glances, steam fogging the mirrors. You catch me looking. A smirk. No words. Just a slow turn as I shut off the water, towel slung low on my hips, uncut cock swaying heavily as I walked past. We don’t exchange names. Don’t need to. Your hand brushes mine outside the pool gates — deliberate, charged. I follow you to your place, hearts pounding like we’re getting away with something. Swimsuits hung over the balcony, still damp, and before the lights are even on, I’m on my knees. Your ass is thick, jiggly, and perfect.

I spread you open and dive in — tongue deep, no hesitation. You moan low. I rim you until you’re bucking, until you’re growling for cock. Urgency is taking over. I bend you over the railing, spit on my palm, guide my fat cock into that wet hole. You take it — deep, greedy. The slap of skin, our grunts, the way the night air chills our sweat-drenched backs. Too loud. We retreat inside. Bedroom. Lights off. Now I fuck you slow — deep, your ass in my hands. Then you ride me, cock bouncing free. Doggy, missionary, you on my back with your legs over my shoulders — every angle, every inch claimed. Finally, I pull out. Stroke myself fast, eyes locked on yours. Thick ropes of cum — hot, heavy — paint your face, your chest, your open mouth. You lick your lips. Swallow what’s mine.No names. No promises. Just raw, filthy sex.