As I pulled out of campus parking, my roommate’s eyes locked onto mine, a sultry spark igniting between us – a spark that had been building since our shared dorm room became an intimate playground for our desires.
My cock stirred in anticipation as I watched him shift in his seat, the fabric of his jeans straining against the bulge growing beneath. The scent of fresh-cut grass and warm asphalt wafted through the car’s open window, but all that registered was the primal urge to claim this man, to feel his body yield to my touch.
I steered onto the main road, the city unfolding like a porn scene before us – neon-lit signs and bustling streets, a backdrop for our raw, unbridled passion. My hand crept over the gearshift, my fingers tracing the contours of the metal as I plotted our next move.
The first words out of his mouth were a whispered “fuck me,” and I was already reaching for the glove compartment, rummaging through crumpled receipts and old parking tickets to retrieve the lube. Our mutual craving had transcended polite conversation; now we spoke in primal grunts and moans, our bodies the sole vocabulary.
I killed the engine, and we tumbled into the backseat – a tangle of limbs, sweat-drenched skin, and urgent desire. His cock bobbed up to meet mine as I sucked it deep into my mouth, his fingers tangling in my hair like a claim of ownership.
The city’s cacophony faded into a distant hum as our oral sex turned into frantic, slick strokes – cocks slapping together in a rhythm that threatened to shatter the windows. My roommate’s cries of pleasure were music to my ears, each shout a testament to the raw power of gay desire unleashed.
As we collapsed, spent and panting, I knew this was more than just a tryst in a car – it was a declaration of our hunger for one another, a promise that the next fuck wouldn’t be far behind. And with that thought, our gazes locked once more, the world reduced to two men, united in their craving for each other’s cocks.
