Hand Over Fist

Simon Cox opens. He squats over the workbench and spreads that dark muscle hole. A fat pink dildo slams in, stretching him wide. Each thrust shows every ridge sliding in and out. Jason Branch steps in and shoves the toy deeper before hauling his own thick cock out. He slams it home, pounding until Simon’s walls grip and yield in perfect sync. Sweat rolls, breath rasps. Then Jason pulls free, fists his hand slick, and drives in knuckle by knuckle. The pace stays brutal: deep punches, twisting wrists, Simon pushing back hungry for more. The room stinks of leather and sweat. Jason’s forearm disappears to the elbow, pulls out, slams back, over and over until Simon’s hole gapes, shiny, wrecked. Finally Jason yanks free, both men stroke hard and blast thick ropes across the bench and each other’s skin. They stand there panting, leather straps damp, holes and fists still twitching.