Backdoor Patrol

I spot JD Phoenix on the street—tanned, muscular, with a scruffy beard, wearing a sleeveless brown shirt and denim shorts, looking rattled after a break-in at his rental nearby. He explains the incident, voice shaky, and I note the area feels sketchy, windows smashed, door ajar. Concerned for his safety, I offer to drive him to a motel. He agrees, sliding into my cruiser’s backseat. At the motel, he strips nude, his body a canvas of taut muscle, and insists on thanking me his way. He drops to his knees, pulling down my pants, his lips wrapping around my hard cock, sucking deep, his tongue teasing the tip as spit drips. I groan, guiding his head, then bend him over the bed. I spread his firm, round ass, sliding into his tight hole with a slow thrust. I fuck him hard, my thick shaft stretching him, his muscular body rocking as I grip his hips, driving deeper. The bed creaks, his moans echoing. I pull out, stroke myself, and unload thick cum all over his pulsing hole, leaving him panting, cum dripping, as I adjust my uniform.