Heads Or Tails 1

Lance Gear grunts, hanging head-down over the leather bed while Tom Vaccaro’s tongue works deep between his cheeks. Lance loves the rim job, but he’s hungry for cock. He climbs down, plants his hands on the mattress, and sticks his ass out. Vaccaro steps up and drives straight in, a thick shaft that slams and punches like a jackhammer. Every thrust rocks Lance’s hairy frame; the slap of skin echoes as the thick rod sinks to the balls and drags out again, stretching him wide. Between blows, Lance spits out what he likes most in a cock—how he wants it heavy, veined, hard enough to bruise. He brags about his own ass: tight, furred, built for this kind of pounding. Vaccaro grunts back, describing his own meat and how he lives for bottoms who take it deep and don’t ask him to slow down. The leather creaks, the room smells of sweat and lube, and Lance’s hole milks every inch like it’s starved for it. 2007 raw, hairy, no brakes—just two men trading filth while the big dick keeps driving.