Fisting Spa

Drew Dixon leans into the dark, fists his uncut cock, and offers it through the bars. Ashley Ryder watches, takes the bait, and the two men mash mouths like it might be their last night on earth. Ashley drops, swallows Drew to the root, and works the shaft until spit runs down his chin. When Drew steps clear of the cage he gets the same favor back—tongue deep in his hole, fingers next, opening him up fast. Ashley gloves up, scoops thick lube, and starts feeding his fist. Each punch disappears, each pull drags Drew’s rosebud into the open air. Drew bends over the bench, then rides the fist from above, taking every inch Ashley can give. Flat on his back, legs spread wide, he takes the forearm in piston strokes, one rosebud after another blooming under Ashley’s wrist. Sweat sheets their ink. Drew’s balls pull tight; he jerks once, twice, and shoots hard, ropes streaking his heaving stomach while Ashley’s hand still works inside him.