Wristrider

Michael Brandon stands over Sky Donovan and goes to work. He drags his tongue from hole to balls, slow circles, then hard sucks. Donovan jerks on the sheets. Brandon spits, pushes two fingers in, then three, twisting. He leans closer and locks his mouth around Donovan’s cock, throat opening easy. His free hand wraps the base of his own fat dick, stroking while his knuckles sink deeper. Donovan’s breath turns ragged. Brandon keeps the rhythm tight: tongue licking the rim, fist sliding in to the wrist, then back out just far enough to stretch the edge. Donovan starts to shake. Brandon locks eyes with him, pushes the last inch, and Donovan shoots hard across his own stomach, the fist still buried inside.