Fisticuffs

Billy can't shake the itch. After his boss wrecked his hole, the craving won't quit. He hits the alley with a baseball bat, spots Mario Ortiz, and drops the line that gets the man hard in seconds. Mario steps in, shoves his thick uncut meat up Billy’s muscled ass, and pounds him right against the graffiti wall, each slam loud in the empty street. Billy needs more. He hauls himself onto the dumpster lid, spreads wide, and hands over the greased bat. Mario works it deep, watching the pink lips grip and suck on every pull. The baseball bat only fans the fire. Billy begs for the fist he got at the office, and Mario gives it to him—arm straightened, driving up past the second knuckle until Billy’s gut swallows him to the elbow. The sight makes Mario stroke hard and fast. When he’s ready he yanks his arm free, pushes Billy to his knees, and paints his chest with thick ropes of cum that drip down over Billy’s heaving pecs.