Soren Kraft

Marc stayed wrapped in Frank’s arms for several long minutes, the steady thump of the older man’s heartbeat a soothing rhythm against his ear. The afternoon light filtered through the bedroom curtains, casting soft patterns across their still-damp skin. Frank’s fingers continued their slow, absentminded strokes along Marc’s spine, tracing the line of his lean back down to the curve of his ass. It felt surprisingly natural, this quiet closeness after the intensity of what they had just shared.

interesting @drsawzall thanks for sharing!

Sunday morning arrived with a crisp, golden light filtering through the trees of the Englischer Garten. Marc had barely slept, his body already buzzing from the memory of Friday's shower. The way Frank's large cock had thickened under the spray, the heated stare they had shared with no words spoken, the heavy silence that had followed them out of the locker room. Marc's cock had been painfully hard the entire walk home, and he had jerked off twice that night thinking about it. Now, as he stretch

Marc woke up on Wednesday morning with a pleasant ache in his legs from the previous evening's run. The apartment in Schwabing was still half filled with unpacked boxes, but the view from the small balcony overlooking the quiet street already felt like home. He stretched in bed, feeling the familiar pull in his hamstrings and the low, persistent thrum of anticipation that had settled in his chest ever since that first run with Frank. Two weeks into the job and the pattern was already forming: lo

Marc arrived at the Englischer Garten on Thursday evening with his running gear already on under a light hoodie. The late September air carried the first real bite of spring, crisp and clean, but his blood felt warm the moment he spotted Frank waiting near the Chinese Tower. The older man stood with his arms crossed, dressed in another set of tight black running clothes that left little to the imagination. The compression fabric stretched across his broad chest, outlining the firm swell of his p

Fresh out of his master’s, openly gay Marc dives into a high-pressure Munich consultancy and straight into the orbit of his cold, closeted boss, Frank. When a “running group” becomes their private ritual, breathless runs, heated glances, and charged locker-room moments ignite a tension neither of them can outrun.

Marc Fischer stepped into the gleaming lobby of the F+ Munich office building and felt a rush of adrenaline hit him square in the chest. At twenty-five, fresh out of his master's program in business administration back in Cologne, he had just moved across the country for this exact moment. The firm specialized in high-stakes consulting for the biggest German car manufacturers, and Marc had crushed the assessment center. He was one of only three new hires selected from over two hundred applicants

Thanks 😃 Nothing planned for those two... so far

Saturday morning arrived with a different kind of tension humming through the small Vienna gym. Patrick stepped inside at 6:30 exactly, the glass door shutting softly behind him. The place already felt transformed. The new air conditioning units hummed quietly along the back wall, cool air circulating evenly for the first time all week. He knew this was the final day of the install. Mike had mentioned it yesterday. Patrick changed in the locker room with a slow smile, pulling on his gym outfit.

Friday morning the gym felt charged, like the air itself was holding its breath. Patrick keyed in at 6:30 on the dot, the quiet click of the glass door echoing in the empty space. His body still carried the memory of yesterday’s shower, Mike’s thick thighs clamped tight around his cock, the way the handyman had moaned openly while Patrick fingered him open under the hot spray. Patrick had jerked off three times last night, each time imagining sinking all the way inside that hairy, muscular body,

Aww thank you... I feel honored! 🫶🏼

Thursday morning the gym felt smaller, the air already warmer even before the sun rose over Vienna. Patrick stepped inside at 6:30, the glass door clicking shut behind him like a secret. His body was buzzing from the night before. He had replayed the shower scene in his head until he fell asleep, Mike’s thick, hairy cock sliding between his lips, the taste of his cum still faint on his tongue hours later. Patrick had come twice in his own bed just thinking about it, but the ache had only deepene

Wednesday morning felt thicker somehow, the Vienna sky still dark when Patrick keyed into the gym at 6:30. The air already carried a faint trace of warmth from the previous day’s work on the new AC units, but the real heat was the one simmering under his skin. He had barely slept. Every time he closed his eyes he saw Mike’s rough hand wrapped around his cock, the dark hair on those thick forearms, the way Mike’s green eyes had gone glassy while he stroked him off. Patrick had jerked himself twic

Tuesday morning arrived with the same crisp Vienna air and the same quiet hum of the empty gym. Patrick pushed through the glass door at 6:30 exactly, gym bag over one shoulder, already feeling the low thrum of anticipation in his chest. Yesterday had left him restless all evening. He had checked SPARKR three separate times after work, but the blank profile stayed silent. No reply to the SPARK, no message, nothing. Yet the green dot had been on until late. Patrick had jerked off in his apartment

Shame on you! 😘😅