The Abysse, Part 1

Seamus O'Reilly waits on all fours, ass up, while Matt Wylde slaps his thick cock against that pink, greedy hole. Matt lines up, slams his dick in to the root, and starts pounding like he owns it. Seamus grunts, pushes back, taking every inch like he was built for it. When Matt finally pulls out, he drops to his knees, slicks both hands, and starts feeding them in one after the other. Fingers stretch, knuckles pop, then half his hand disappears. Seamus shudders but keeps his back arched, hole swallowing deeper with every push. Sweat runs down his spine. Matt works him open slow, steady, until Seamus is open wide and leaking lube down his thighs. Between moans he promises Matt the same treatment—his own hole wrecked, dripping, wrecked again. Matt keeps the rhythm, twisting his wrist, knuckles stretching Seamus wider, turning that hairy, inked ass into a wet, hungry mess.