Deep In the Club

Dean Rogers sits alone in the back room, clamps biting his nipples while he strokes his pierced cock through the fabric. Alex Killian spots the open door, steps inside, rubs Dean’s jock until the leather strains. Dean nods him closer. Alex drops to his knees, pulls the pouch aside, and swallows the thick shaft in one smooth glide. Spit trails down the length. Alex licks higher, tongue tracing the clamped nubs, then lower again until he buries his face between Dean’s cheeks and works the hole open with long, wet strokes. Dean pushes back, hungry now. Alex slicks his fist, presses the knuckles to Dean’s rim, and works them in slow, steady pressure. Dean grunts, bears down, takes the whole hand past the wrist. Once inside, Alex keeps it still; Dean rides the arm, hole clenching around every inch. He jerks his own cock, metal ring glinting, hips pumping. Alex twists deeper, knuckles grinding the prostate, and Dean’s load suddenly arcs in thick ropes across his tattooed belly while the fist stays buried to the wrist.