Bad Ass

James Aaron would rather work on his hole than the engine in his beat-up Porsche. He grabs a flashlight and works it deep inside, not thinking about Mason Garet coming over to help. Mason walks in, sees the light sticking out, and steps right up to push it deeper. James flips onto his back, strokes his hard cock, and opens wider as Mason sinks his fist in, wrist deep. Sweat-slick skin. Inked muscle. Jockstraps stretch and snap. After Mason twists and punches, James stands, turns the tables, and drives his own fist straight into Mason. Mason drops to all fours, arches his back, and takes every inch until he’s gaping. They switch again, end up locked in a sixty-nine, fists buried to the elbow, until both holes give out.