Rough

Brody Meyer’s jeans gape open. Greg Dixxon wears only a jockstrap. They lock up in the back of an empty warehouse, boots scraping concrete. Brody drops and buries his tongue in Greg’s hole, then swallows every inch of his thick cock. The daddies trade places across a steel table. Greg rides hard, then spins and drives in balls-deep. Spit flies. Grunts echo. Hairy chests slap together while boots plant and they slam raw until both balls empty inside each other.