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Bobby Black sways in the sling. Mack Kurtis feeds him slow, deliberate strokes, leather straps creaking with every thrust. Kurtis shoots, peels off the loaded rubber, and pours the hot spunk over Black’s thick cock. “Who’s next?” Black growls. Vaccaro steps in, thick cock already swinging. He greases his fist, sinks past the knuckles, and starts punching Black’s hole in steady, wet thuds. Between punches he slides his dick in, testing depth, pulling back out to fist again. Black’s load paints his own hairy chest and belly. Vaccaro keeps hammering until he roars, splattering the same mess across Black’s twitching hole. All three men glisten under dim lights—leather, sweat, and the raw smell of used holes heavy in the air.