The Fetish Bar

Pierce Paris clocks Lain Kross across the room at the bar and the look is pure hunger. Lain feels it and walks straight over. No words. They rack balls like it's a warm-up, then the real game starts. Pierce slides a blindfold over Lain's eyes and snaps cuffs tight behind his back. Lain stays still, breathing deep, letting it happen. Pierce drops to his knees, pulls Lain's cock free, and swallows it down until it thickens heavy on his tongue. He works slow, gets it slick, then spins Lain around and buries his face between the stranger's cheeks, tongue pushing deep, spreading the hole open. Lain moans low, body tense, offering everything. When Pierce stands and lines up, there is no warning—just the blunt stretch of his thick cock pushing in. He starts fucking at a hard, steady beat, heavy balls slapping Lain's ass with every thrust. Lain takes it blind and bound until Pierce decides he wants the mouth again. He frees the cuffs, pulls the blindfold, and shoves his cock between Lain's lips. The sudden freedom and the taste of his own ass on Pierce's shaft push Lain over the edge. He shoots hard across the floor, still sucking. Pierce keeps feeding him dick but holds back his own load, chest heaving, eyes locked on the hungry mouth working him.