Jumpin' Jacks

Baxter and Michaels lock stares. Leather creaks. No one's leaving till the long double dildo disappears. Reeves steps in, Brazilian grin and oil. He works their holes first, knuckles sinking deep until the muscle gives. The toy looms, veined, heavy, half a leg of thick rubber. Each man takes a blunt end, jockstraps already soaked. They back up together. First inch. Second. Grunts cut the air. Reeves keeps them open, one hand guiding, the other stroking his own cock. Inch by inch the toy vanishes. Michaels flexes, veins standing on his neck. Baxter shoves harder, sweat running down his spine. The center line gets closer. Neither yields. Reeves spits on the middle and pushes them together. Leather strains. Hips snap. They ride until their cheeks almost touch, the dildo now buried, two asses clenching and pushing in a brutal tug-of-war nobody wins except the crowd.