Fistpack 29 - When A Man Needs A Fist

Ryan Patrick and James Aaron square off in a regulation boxing ring like they have a score to settle. Two veterans who know how to open a man up, they waste no time. Ryan takes the first round, pressing his advantage into James’s tattoo-marked hole, turning the center of the ring into a slick, lube-glazed arena. His hand works deep, wrist flexing, every thrust punctuated by the wet sound of skin meeting skin. James stays on all fours, that round, smooth ass spread wide, greedy for more. His hole stretches, lips wrapping tight around Ryan’s thick knuckles, then loosening just enough to let the next push sink farther. Every time Ryan’s paw pulls free, James’s ass stays open, winking, a glistening ring of muscle hungry for the next round. The grunts turn ragged as James rocks back, taking everything Ryan gives him, urging him deeper with short, filthy moans. Then the rosebud appears, blooming hot and red under the lights, and Ryan’s eyes go wide at the sight of it, still hungry, still pushing, still wanting more.