The jockstrap frames the hole and leaves it open for the fist. On Fisting Inferno, more than 300 scenes keep the jock on: pouch bulging while the ass behind it is stretched, straps gripped by the fister like handles, locker rooms and dungeons where the only clothing left is a jockstrap and a pair of boots. Fisting Central's signature look, in HD.
Sherman and Honey catch Gunnar and Jonzu in the locker room. Gunnar’s hairy ass is stretched wide, Jonzu’s fist buried to the wrist. The two newcomers step closer. Honey stares, still puzzled. Sherman flashes that wicked grin and says he’ll show him exactly how it works. They’re on each other fast—tongues, teeth, hands everywhere. Sherman drops to his knees, swallows Honey’s cock, then spins around so Honey can bury his face between those cheeks. They kiss again, spit-slick and hungry. Honey straps on his jock, lines up, and drives in bare. Sherman grunts, pushes back, taking every inch until Honey’s balls slap skin. Honey pulls out, breathing hard. He asks if Sherman’s ready for more. Sherman nods, eyes dark. Honey slicks his fingers, works two, then three inside. Sherman moans, hips rocking, hole opening wider with each push. Four fingers now, then the thumb tucked tight. Honey presses forward slow and steady until his whole fist disappears and the thick forearm follows. Sherman’s stretched to the limit, grinning through the burn, sweat running down his back. Honey pulls free, cock already leaking. He bends Sherman over, slams back in, and pounds until his load shoots deep. Sherman takes every spurt, hole pulsing around the spent dick still buried inside him.
Sherman and Honey catch Gunnar and Jonzu in the locker room. Gunnar’s hairy ass is stretched wide, Jonzu’s fist buried to the wrist. The two newcomers step closer. Honey stares, still puzzled. Sherman flashes that wicked grin and says he’ll show him exactly how it works. They’re on each other fast—tongues, teeth, hands everywhere. Sherman drops to his knees, swallows Honey’s cock, then spins around so Honey can bury his face between those cheeks. They kiss again, spit-slick and hungry. Honey straps on his jock, lines up, and drives in bare. Sherman grunts, pushes back, taking every inch until Honey’s balls slap skin. Honey pulls out, breathing hard. He asks if Sherman’s ready for more. Sherman nods, eyes dark. Honey slicks his fingers, works two, then three inside. Sherman moans, hips rocking, hole opening wider with each push. Four fingers now, then the thumb tucked tight. Honey presses forward slow and steady until his whole fist disappears and the thick forearm follows. Sherman’s stretched to the limit, grinning through the burn, sweat running down his back. Honey pulls free, cock already leaking. He bends Sherman over, slams back in, and pounds until his load shoots deep. Sherman takes every spurt, hole pulsing around the spent dick still buried inside him.
