Caelan couldn’t remember a time where he had felt more exhilarated. The last time he had slept with a man had been less than memorable. He had been half drunk and even less interested in the fellow enthusiastically fucking him. This was different, Dusty was different. Dusty was attentive and responsive. He drove Caelan to the brink, only to pull back immediately, as if he sensed that Caelan was seconds from completely and utterly unraveling beneath him.<br/><br/>This last time left Caelan pressing his face into the seat, open-mouthed and groaning. He wasn’t sure if his response stemmed from frustration or desperation. Probably both. He squeezed his hand over Dusty’s while his other hand gripped the edge of the seat. His heart pounded in his chest and he could hardly breathe, the cabin thick with their panting and the Louisiana humidity.<br/><br/>“Just fuck me, Dusty. Fuck me and don’t stop.” Caelan pulled his sweat slicked skin from the seat and wrapped his hand around his cock. The simple touch was almost too much for his sensitive member. He folded his arm over the armrest just inside the door and laid his forehead against it, his lean body bent down at an angle for the man. “Fuck me, please. I want to hear you come.” He spoke almost in a dazed voice, desperate for Dusty to do him in.