No Limits

Johnny Hill hangs from a St. Andrew's cross, jaw locked open by a bridle. His breath comes out thick around the leather. Dillon Diaz studies the row of tools, grabs the flogger, and starts laying leather across Johnny's inked chest and thick thighs. Each strike lands sharp. Johnny groans, hips jerking, but the cross holds him tight. The hits keep coming until his voice cracks for mercy. Dillon tosses the flogger aside. He yanks Johnny's jock down, drops to his knees, and swallows the growing shaft in one smooth move. Spit runs down his chin as he works it, then he stands, turns, and sinks back until Johnny's cock splits him open. Dillon rides him slow, clenching, letting the shaft slide almost free before he drops again. Johnny can only grunt and watch his dick disappear. Dillon rides him right to the edge, pulling off whenever the moans turn desperate. Finally he drops to his knees again, opens his mouth, and takes every thick rope Johnny shoots across his tongue.