Workin' Stiff Episodes
Workin' Stiff
Andrew Cole works the far corner of the club like it owes him something. Both fists sunk past the elbows in Bryce Colby and Jarod Clark, he drives forward until his knuckles kiss the backs of their guts. Grease shines on their stretched rings every time they swallow his forearms. He twists, he pulls, he slams back in—punch after punch—and their holes open wider, pink lips blooming around his wrists like they were made for it. Bryce shudders, rocking his ass down the length of Andrew’s arm. Jarod grinds too, chasing the next deep strike. The men are strung up on those fists, jerking whenever Andrew curls his fingers or scrapes a knuckle across their prostate. Their breath hitches, sweat runs, and still they push back for more. Leather straps cut across Andrew’s chest. His jockstrap is soaked at the pouch. When he finally rips his arms free, the two wrecked holes stay open, pulsing, hungry. He wraps a slick fist around his cock, jerks once, twice, and sprays thick ropes across his own abs. Bryce and Jarod lean in, fingers working his nipples hard, keeping the load pumping until Andrew’s chest is streaked white and his breath comes ragged.
Andrew Cole works the far corner of the club like it owes him something. Both fists sunk past the elbows in Bryce Colby and Jarod Clark, he drives forward until his knuckles kiss the backs of their guts. Grease shines on their stretched rings every time they swallow his forearms. He twists, he pulls, he slams back in—punch after punch—and their holes open wider, pink lips blooming around his wrists like they were made for it. Bryce shudders, rocking his ass down the length of Andrew’s arm. Jarod grinds too, chasing the next deep strike. The men are strung up on those fists, jerking whenever Andrew curls his fingers or scrapes a knuckle across their prostate. Their breath hitches, sweat runs, and still they push back for more. Leather straps cut across Andrew’s chest. His jockstrap is soaked at the pouch. When he finally rips his arms free, the two wrecked holes stay open, pulsing, hungry. He wraps a slick fist around his cock, jerks once, twice, and sprays thick ropes across his own abs. Bryce and Jarod lean in, fingers working his nipples hard, keeping the load pumping until Andrew’s chest is streaked white and his breath comes ragged.