No One Will Know What We Did Back There
Added 2025-07-16 18:00:03 +0000 UTCAshton looked like a tourist straight out of an ad: slim, pale, long lashes, bleached blond hair, and delicate fingers clutching the strap of his backpack. He moved awkwardly through the jungle, but with determination. Birds sang above, the air was thick, heavy. The group kept walking ahead, leaving two of them behind.
Thiago, a dark-skinned Brazilian with a body like carved mahogany, was an experienced guide who knew these trails like the back of his hand. He suddenly slowed down, resting a firm hand on Ashton’s shoulder.
“Quiet, gringo,” he whispered with a warm smirk. “Too noisy.”
Ashton nodded, unsure what he meant—until he felt Thiago’s strong fingers press around his waist. Gently, but deliberately. His breath hitched.
“We’re alone now,” Thiago said. “You feel it too?”
Ashton didn’t answer. He just sank to his knees, blushing, trembling, like even he didn’t understand why. It all happened so fast. Wet. Intense. The taste of skin. The smell of sweat. And the sounds—wet, messy, hungry. His heartbeat thundered in his ears. What if someone sees?
“Look at you,” Thiago whispered. “Such a good boy…”
His hand moved through Ashton’s hair, gripping a little tighter. There was power in that touch, the kind that made Ashton shiver like he was standing at the edge of something dangerous.
Every little sound echoed louder than it should’ve—leaves rustling, breath quickening, the obscene wet sounds between them. Ashton kept glancing behind him, terrified someone from the group would come back.
But no one did.
And when it all got too hot, too intense—Thiago didn’t let go. He pulled Ashton closer, wrapped his strong arms around his waist, whispered something low and fast in Portuguese…
And it began.
Their bodies moved in the green shadows. Ashton tried not to moan, bit his lip, clung to tree roots like they’d keep him grounded.
He didn’t want to be heard.
But he wanted this.
So badly it hurt.
“You’re so tight… so scared… but you love this, don’t you?” Thiago growled near his ear.
And Ashton nodded. Not for mercy. For more.
It ended like a crash—deep, raw, greedy.
Thiago stayed buried in him, panting. Ashton trembled beneath him.
“You feel it?” he asked.
And Ashton did. The heat. The slickness. Something thick and warm beginning to leak out of him. Slowly. Down the inside of his thighs. Soaking into his shorts like a mark—proof that it had happened.
He couldn’t move. Just leaned against the tree, breathing fast, feeling Thiago’s seed slipping out, drop by drop, leaving wet trails on his skin.
Shame and pleasure twisted together like vines around his chest.
Thiago zipped up, calm and casual.
“Let’s catch up,” he said, smirking. “They won’t even know you were mine.”
