Nolan Hawkins, a blond, pretty-boy accountant, hires on at Ashland Construction and soon crushes on his blue-collar boss, Joey Ashland. Joey specializes in buying and operating front loaders for the company, and to Nolan’s surprise, takes an interest in the accountant. Soon a secret romance begins to unravel between them.
Joey whisks the accountant to his cabin in upstate New York, where the two share a romantic weekend together filled with heated lust. But when the couple returns to Ashland Construction on Monday morning, all hell breaks loose.
Joey’s brother Brian is not an easy man to work for, and to top things off, he’s also a homophobic bully. When Brian learns of the relationship between Joey and Nolan, he gives the accountant an ultimatum: quit his job or quit Joey.
A battle between the siblings ensues, but Nolan wages his own emotional battle. Should he keep his job and forget about his feelings for the front loader? Or should he end his accounting position and begin a new life with Joey away from Ashland Construction?
This rendezvous in the north is all about my skin, I realize. The construction worker has obviously missed me, and everything I have to offer him: my flesh, desire, lust, and heart—whatever he wishes to consume. I become weak beneath him, a slave to both of our needs, semi-melodramatic with my quivering and irresistible mumbles.
Without notice, a plastic coating of protection is applied to his ten inches and my legs are drawn over my head. Here, my tight core winks at him, prepped for his piece of construction. And here, I wail as half of his pole steadily and hurriedly plummets into my opening.
Within this cold cabin, we study bearology together: concisely, uniquely, and without circumstances. All of his ten inches consumes my harbor, shifts away, and consumes it again. Joey’s hairy bear-balls slap against my thighs and bottom, building up a resonant cadence.
I become his find beneath him, pressed to the sofa bed, practically unable to breathe. Weakened by his continuous blasts, my heart races. Sweat lines my rippled chest, thick legs, furrowed forehead, and broad shoulders. The pain that shifts within my center is completely enjoyable; a puncturing feeling that I have missed with the front loader.
His thumping is limitless. Twenty pulverizing booms to my backside careen into sixty with utter vigor. Joey becomes the front loader in my bottom, plowing me with his weight, backing away, and plowing me yet another time. His motion is aggressive and effective, needy bliss for the two of us and this naked bond.
Sweat flies off his chest, forehead, and shoulders, stinging my cock and balls. The masculine stink within the cabin circulates about our flesh-to-flesh bodies.
The co-owner of Ashland Construction leans over me and connects his face with my face. His tongue exits his mouth again, enters between my teeth, and dances with my own tongue. During this process, his jolts proceed to rock my rump, sending both of us into an abyss of sexual enchantment, complete jubilation.
Once his kiss ends, he pulls away from my face, sits on his knees, continues to move in and out of my Hawk-base, and leashes his right hand around the eight inches of standing root at my middle. Swift north and south motion supervenes. Joey’s handjob on my spike becomes vibrant and sturdy. His action sends me into tyrannical bliss on the sofa bed, and to a point of absolute no return.
Exultation is ascertained on my part. A flood of man-thrill boils within my crux. Joey causes me to feel weakened by his prominent ass-thumping and cock-crusade. A tirade of infectious lingo escapes my mouth; indecipherable chants of sexual decadence. I become winded beneath him on my back, flushed, and with very little comprehension of what truly transpires between us.
Not surprisingly, I am the first to fire my load. Following a continuous palm-ride, my cock is unable to pent its cargo for another second. A strange and obnoxious sound that is quite gruff and unruly escapes my mouth. A final undulation of delight encompasses my interior. My jaws tighten and I can’t help but to close my eyes as ...
Thin strings of white fluid are released from my post. The man-syrup splatters against my torso, fills my dented navel, and splashes against my inflated pecs. Pointed nipples are covered in the splat, hiding their reddish deliciousness.
