"Don't worry. I have two hands." And he places one on mine, as if to encourage me to continue. The van keeps moving, and I continue to work him, savoring each stifled moan, each shiver that runs through him. The night seems to belong to us, and this time, I'm in control. My tongue lingers on his navel, eagerly licking the salty skin, slowly moving up to his chest. Already pressed against him, I slide lower, my lips brushing the bulge of his erect penis through the fabric. I don't hesitate. I begin to unbutton his pants, button by button, with calculated slowness, making him yearn. Each button released is torture for him, his hips lifting slightly, as if he wants to urge me to go faster. Finally, his penis springs forth, hard and burning, and I immediately envelop it with my lips. From the very first seconds, I'm surprised by the abundance of his precum, which oozes generously, almost continuously. Its taste, both salty and subtly sweet, with a hint of masculine bitterness, intoxicates me. I linger on it, my tongue capturing each drop that beads, savoring this unique flavor that makes me want him even more. He places his left hand on my head, his fingers digging into my hair, holding me in place. "You're obsessed, man… Actually, it's not unpleasant!" he murmurs, his eyes still fixed on the road, but his breath coming in shorter bursts. I begin to move, my tongue skillfully working on his glans, collecting each new drop of this delicious precum, then sliding along his shaft, before taking him deep inside again. His hips lift slightly from the seat, as if he can't help but push towards me. I feel his thighs tighten, his muscles tense beneath my hands resting on his legs. I vary the rhythm, alternating between slow, deep strokes and quicker, more insistent licks, savoring each new wave of the generously flowing liquid. His hand on my head clenches, his fingers tightening, and I hear him let out a muffled groan, almost an admission. "Watch the road, too…" I murmur, pulling back for a moment, but it's more to tease him than out of genuine concern. He laughs, a hoarse sound, almost a challenge. "Don't worry, Pierre. I'm used to driving in hotter situations than this." And he pushes his pelvis even closer to me, as if daring me to continue, his muscular thighs framing my face.I resume my work, my mouth and hand working in harmony, feeling every shiver that runs through him, every pulsation of his sex between my lips. The van keeps moving, and I'm there, between his powerful thighs, savoring every moment of this shared submission, every moan he can't suppress, every drop of his arousal that trickles onto my tongue. I pull his pants down a little further, freeing his heavy, warm balls, which I gently grasp in my palm. My fingers explore their weight, their silky texture, before moving up to his perineum, which I massage softly, slowly, in insistent circles. To my surprise, I already feel abundant wetness at the base of his penis, as if he were generously aroused, betrayed by his own body. The tension between us is extreme. He tenses several times, his hips heave in and out, and he even jerks the steering wheel a few times, muttering under his breath. "Fuck, Pierre..." he murmurs, his voice breaking, his eyes fixed on the road, but his attention clearly elsewhere. I continue, my mouth working his penis with calculated eagerness, my fingers caressing his balls and his excessively sensitive perineum, pushing him ever closer to the edge. I linger there, pressing just enough to make him gasp, savoring every shiver that runs through him. His fingers dig almost painfully into my hair, and I hear him let out a deep, muffled groan. I also savor the salty, musky taste of the remnants of his semen, still clinging to his damp pubic area, a delicious, intoxicating mixture that reminds me of our session in the bathroom. Then, suddenly, he slams on the brakes. The van slows abruptly, and he pushes me back slightly, just enough to make me step back, his penis sliding out of my mouth with a wet sound. "I can't take it anymore, man..." His voice is strained, thick with barely contained desire. "We're going to end up in the ditch. We have to stop. Now." His eyes are dark with longing, but there's an urgency in his voice. "I need to find a quiet spot. Quick." His hand trembles slightly as he grips the steering wheel, and I know he's about to explode. The van veers sharply down a side road, the headlights sweeping across the tall grass before going out. He cuts the engine, the sudden silence broken only by our quickened breaths. "Come out." He gets out first, leans against the hood, his buttocks resting on the still-warm metal. Without hesitation, he pulls down his pants and underwear himself, letting them fall to his ankles. Then, with a slow movement, he pulls his t-shirt over his head, letting it hang down around his neck.Then I understand: he likes having his chest caressed, his nipples teased. He looks at me, his eyes shining with excitement. I move slowly, deliberately, savoring every second of this anticipation. "Hurry up, we're running late!" he calls out, but his voice lacks conviction. Finally, I reach him. And I gaze at him in the last faint rays of daylight. Trousers and briefs around his ankles, his t-shirt pulled up over his neck, he stands there, offered up. His body is silhouetted against the gloom, powerful and virile, his bulging muscles barely illuminated by the dying light. His broad chest, covered in dark hair, his square shoulders, his sinewy arms—everything about him exudes raw strength and restrained desire. His erection, hard and taut, stands proudly, shaded by the twilight, ready to be explored. I approach him, face to face, eyes locked, our breaths mingling in the evening air. I whisper, my voice low and provocative, "My handsome bullfighter… if you want me to finish you off, you'll have to kiss me." A shiver runs through him. His dark eyes deepen, a mixture of defiance and raw desire. He stares at me for a moment, his lips slightly parted, as if weighing the pros and cons. Then, a sly smile, both mocking and excited, escapes him. "You're a real nerve, man…" He pauses, then adds, his voice husky, "But hey… if that's the price to pay…" Happy as a clam, I slowly move my lips toward his. He doesn't pull away. On the contrary, he remains motionless, his eyes fixed on me, as if daring me to go through with it. When our mouths finally meet, I discover an uncommon skill. His lips are warm, demanding, and he kisses me with an intensity that surprises me. Not tenderness, no: possession, a shared domination, where our tongues clash and intertwine with raw greed. His taste, a blend of beer, tobacco, and pure virility, intoxicates me. And when he gently pushes me away, breathless, I know he's given in… but that he'll never let me forget him. To please him and prolong this delicious kiss, I slide my hand toward his sex, already burning with excitement. My fingers gently envelop it, feeling every pulse, every shiver that runs through him. He groans against my lips, a hoarse, satisfied sound, as if he's savoring every moment of this double pleasure. "So, Pierre… are you finishing what you started so well in the car?" he murmurs, his eyes shining with desire.I kneel before him, my eyes raised to his, savoring every second of this willing submission. My hand encircles his hard penis, already glistening with arousal, and I begin to caress it slowly, my lips tracing his chest, his stomach, moving down to his pubis. He shudders, his fingers tightening in my hair, as if he wants to guide me… or hold me back. Then, I stop abruptly. I straighten up, cup his face in my hands, and kiss him long and deep, our tongues intertwining with raw eagerness. It's the first time I've kissed a man with a mustache, and the sensation of the hair against my lips surprises me, adding an exciting roughness to the kiss. He groans, frustrated, but I feel his body tense towards me, craving the contact. "You're sadistic, man…" he murmurs against my lips, his voice thick with desire. I smile, pleased to be teasing him. Then, I slowly move back down his body, tracing every muscle, every hair, until I reach his penis, which I take back into my mouth. My tongue works his glans with precision, while my fingers massage his perineum, that ultra-sensitive area that makes ...

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