Joey Caruso
Joey Caruso stands before the lens, muscle tight, cock rigid. He works his nipples with steady fingers, breath sharpening with each pinch. In one scene on Sounding he grips his shaft and pumps, while a metal rod slides inch by inch into the slit. The camera lingers on the stretch, the hiss of air, the tremor that runs through him as metal fills him deeper. Every thrust of his hand matches the slow drag of the sound, jerking and stuffing himself at once. Sweat beads. His body clenches around cold steel until release hits, thick and sudden.
Joey Caruso
Joey Caruso stands before the lens, muscle tight, cock rigid. He works his nipples with steady fingers, breath sharpening with each pinch. In one scene on Sounding he grips his shaft and pumps, while a metal rod slides inch by inch into the slit. The camera lingers on the stretch, the hiss of air, the tremor that runs through him as metal fills him deeper. Every thrust of his hand matches the slow drag of the sound, jerking and stuffing himself at once. Sweat beads. His body clenches around cold steel until release hits, thick and sudden.