Slam Dunk

Rik Jammer hangs ass-up in the sling, black leather straps biting his thighs. Bud steps in, leather vest open, thick cock already hard. He works a massive dildo past Jammer’s ring, stretching the pink flesh until it shines, then snaps on black rubber gloves. One slow push and his fist sinks deep, wrist disappearing while Jammer moans and rocks. Bud yanks Jammer out of the sling, drops him to his knees, and feeds him that cock. Jammer swallows to the root, spit dripping off the leather codpiece below. They switch. Bud climbs into the sling, inked chest heaving. Jammer greases a fat red dildo and drives it in and out until Bud’s hole gapes. Then Jammer gloves up. Bud drops onto the rigid forearm, taking it past the elbow in one slick glide. They move to the rubber mat, gloves slick, and lock into a filthy sixty-nine—each fist buried to the forearm while hungry mouths trade spit and pre-cum. Bodies flex, leather creaks, moans turn to grunts. Both cocks jump at once, shooting thick white ropes across inked skin and stretched holes.