Custodian of the Hole

Derek Cline drops to his knees behind the custodian and spreads him open. His tongue works fast, wet, and deep between those cheeks, tracing every inch of Ashley Ryder's tight crack. Ashley groans and pushes back hard. "Fist my hole already," he snaps. Derek doesn't need telling twice. He slicks his fist and sinks it straight into Ashley's waiting hole, pushing past the tight ring until the whole fist disappears. Ashley moans loud and rocks forward, taking the full width. Derek pushes further, knuckles, wrist, forearm sliding into the stretch. Inch by inch the arm sinks until he's buried to the elbow in hot, pulsing muscle. Ashley rides it. He shoves back, taking the arm as deep as it will go, ass bouncing on slick skin. Derek twists his fist inside the open chute, turning his wrist in slow circles, then faster, churning the heat. Ashley rolls onto his back, legs spread wide, giving up every bit of control. Derek keeps punching, steady and deep. Ashley counts each thrust, voice cracking as they hit one hundred, never stopping the drive in and out of the wrecked hole. He climbs off, stands, and squats back down, taking the fist elbow-deep again. Sweat runs down his chest. Finally he lies back, lets Derek drive in one more time, and his cock jerks, shooting thick ropes across his own thigh.