Bisexual World on Fire: Part 1

Rocky Emerson and Johnny Hill hole up in a squat when everything’s already gone to shit. She’s knuckles-deep on the mattress, legs spread, three fingers slick in her cunt when Johnny bangs in yelling about sirens, the roads closing, the city burning. Their window to bolt slams shut. Then the door splinters and Draven Navarro barges through—six-three, turnout gear soaked, axe still hooked to his belt. He clocks the scene in one glance: Rocky’s hand dripping, Johnny’s cock already swelling against his jeans. No lecture. Draven peels off his coat, drops his bunker pants, and that fat fireman dick springs free, wet at the tip. He doesn’t ask. He just says, “Floor. Now.” Rocky goes to all fours; Johnny drops behind her, spreads her cheeks, and spears her ass in one shove. Draven feeds her mouth, rocking balls-deep down her throat, spit running over her tits. They switch, rotate—Johnny rails Rocky while she jacks Draven; then Draven buries himself in Johnny’s ass while Johnny keeps slamming Rocky. Sweat-slick bodies slap on the threadbare carpet. Staccato radio chatter fills the gaps between moans—Dispatch ordering immediate evacuation—until the next alert cuts through: “All units stand down. Containment breached. Nowhere left.” Draven’s cock is still pulsing inside Johnny when he clicks the radio off. They pause half a beat, then Rocky pulls both men back into her at once. No sirens, no orders, just the wet slide of bodies and the low growl of men who’ve decided the end of the world can wait.