Surveillance

Warehouse dark, doors locked. Marcel Eugene still in uniform, cock already out. He bends Kyle Michaels over a steel table and slides in raw, deep. The security guard slams forward, boots planted, every stroke hard and steady. Kyle grips the edge, ringed nipples scraping cold metal, taking every inch without a sound. Marcel pulls out just in time, shoots thick ropes across Kyle’s lower back, watches the cum slide down the curve of his ass. Kyle turns, climbs up, plants his hole on Marcel’s mouth. While Marcel eats him out, Kyle works a thin metal rod down his own piss-slit, jerking the pierced head until he shoots across Marcel’s tongue. Marcel swallows, eyes locked on the man above him.