It was exactly 6 p.m. when I joined him on the bramble-covered towpath, at the orange twilight painting the banks of the Marne in fiery hues. No cozy hotel room tonight, just this discreet spot, steeped in mystery, where rusty barges whispered secrets along the water. Romain waved to me from his battered pickup, his carnivorous smile illuminating his weathered 42-year-old face, and I followed his dusty car to the dilapidated pier where he tinkers with his old fishing boats, a corrugated iron shed that reeks of engine oil and rotten wood. As soon as the creaking door closed behind us, the air grew heavy with electric tension, like before a storm. We approached without a word, our breaths already mingling. His musky scent—salty sweat, stale tobacco, and a hint of river salt—washed me over, his green eyes devouring me like a hungry predator. His massive body, six feet two inches of muscle forged by years of manual labor, pressed against mine, and I felt his stiff cock, thick as a pickaxe handle, pulse against my lower abdomen through our straining jeans. My heart pounded like a hammer, the already hard cock straining my boxers, precum oozing against the fabric. Our hands took over, eager. I slid mine under his faded khaki shirt, stroking his hairy chest, hot and sweaty, the coarse hairs curling around my fingers like invitations to vice.He pinned me against a grease-covered workbench, kissing me everywhere—neck, ears, throat—his stubble scraping my skin to the bone. I moaned, arched my back when he undid my belt with a sharp gesture, but it was he who pushed me toward the rusty ladder that climbed to the false ceiling, an attic cluttered with cobwebs and rusty spare parts. I climbed, excitement knotting my guts like a teenager in heat for his first time. Up there, under the blackened beams, the atmosphere was a clandestine cocoon, the air thick with river dampness and our raw desire. Romain reached me in two strides, crushed me against him, his chest arched against my back, and smooched me voraciously, his thick tongue searching my mouth, sucking my saliva with wolfish hunger. His calloused hands dipped under my shirt, pinched my hardened nipples until I arched, then slid to my waist, pulling down my pants and boxers in one fluid motion. My bare ass was exposed to the cool air, a puckered ring already throbbing with anticipation. Without a word, he knelt behind me, spreading my hairy buttocks with his thumbs, and his mouth melted onto my hole—hot, wet, eager as a sucker. Fuck, his expert tongue lapping at my crack swirled around my tight ring, forcing entry to plunge in, sucking my sensitive walls with obscene slurping sounds. I moaned loudly, eyes closed, one hand in his tousled brown hair, the other pumping my stiff cock as it dripped onto the dusty floorboards. When he lifted his head, lips glistening with my wetness, his greedy smile pierced me—a flash of pure lust that sent shivers down my spine. “Sit here, Theo,” he growled, pointing to an old ejection boat seat, cracked, salt-stained leather. I obeyed, still panting, my cock erect like a mast, veins bulging and a glistening purple head. His cock was already oozing from his open jeans: eight inches of bestial thickness, circumcised, veined like a river map, precum beading at the tip. He brought it to my mouth, and I slowly swallowed it, lips stretched around its caliber, tongue licking the salty frenulum, sucking until his hairy pubis tickled my nose.He moaned hoarsely, his fingers clenching the rusty armrests, hips thrusting to push deeper, deep-throating my throat in a wet, wet way. Then he leaned down, taking me in his mouth again—a voracious suck, lips clamped around my base, tongue massaging my glans while his fingers searched my ass, two knuckles stretching my saliva-lubricated entrance. I couldn't hold back: orgasm hit me like a thunderbolt, cum spurting in hot, thick jets straight down his throat, while I stared at him, our gazes locked in raw intimacy. He swallowed it all, not a drop escaping, and we kissed—the taste of my juices on his tongue, a salty, intimate mix that made us both moan. I was still shaking, my thighs trembling, but I whispered hoarsely, "Your turn, Romain. Let me drain you." I tipped him back onto the seat, one knee on the creaky floorboards, and took his cock back in my mouth—deeper this time, throat openi ...

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