The old Jeep bounced over gravel, pine scent thick in the air. Kurt, thirty-four and straight as they come, pressed against the door while his cousins filled the rest. Logan, eighteen with a lean frame and an ass that defied physics, sat squeezed between them in those obscene silk shorts. "These roads are hell," Mark called from the front. "Logan, you’ll have to sit on Kurt’s lap soon—trunk’s packed." Logan glanced back with a sly grin. "Hope you can handle this, cuz. My booty’s no lightweight." Kurt forced a laugh. "Just don’t wiggle around and we’ll survive."
Logan climbed onto his lap as the road worsened. Every pothole ground that fat ass against Kurt’s crotch. "Feels like you’re enjoying the ride a little too much," Logan quipped, voice low and teasing. Kurt’s breath hitched. "Shut it. It’s the bumps." But his cock hardened fast, trapped and throbbing. Logan shifted deliberately. "Bumps, huh? Or is my ass making you horny?" Sweat beaded on Kurt’s brow. The friction built until he couldn’t hold back—he came hard, pulsing cum soaking through his shorts onto Logan’s. "Fuck… I’m sorry," Kurt panted. Logan stayed still, feeling the wet heat, then whispered with sharp wit, "No apology needed if you finish what you started at camp. My pussy’s not here, but this ass is dripping for more." The tension crackled as they arrived, both sweating and aching for the tent.
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