Powerhole

Spike takes it deep in this one. The same guy who pounded Bobby Black earlier now lies back and lets Frank Sylvano slide both hands inside him. Sylvano pushes finger after finger past the tight ring until the whole fist disappears. Spike bears down and pushes his rosebud out, begging for more, and Sylvano drives in to the wrist with no trouble. Half his forearm sinks into Spike's hairy, tattooed hole, smooth and steady. Spike climbs onto the bench, lifts his legs, and offers the hole at a fresh angle. Sylvano keeps feeding it, pausing only to pull the lips wide and look into the raw red tunnel he’s opened up.