Dog Fight

Tony Buff calls the shots. Dirk Caber drops to his knees like a pup who knows the rules. He tongues every inch of Buff’s boots first, then the black chaps that hug those hard thighs. The leather tastes like sweat and rubber and something darker. Caber works higher until his mouth hits the codpiece, teeth grazing metal as he searches for the real prize underneath. Buff frees his cock and Caber swallows it fast, hungry and focused, taking every inch like a reward he’s earned. Spit runs down Buff’s balls while the pup’s tongue works overtime. The heat gets to Buff. He turns, spreads, and lets the dogboy bury his face between his cheeks. Caber sniffs and licks, face pressed tight, until Buff’s patience cracks. He spins Caber onto all fours. Mitts stay on. Buff slams in, raw and deep, pounding that hole like he’s teaching a lesson. The slap of skin fills the room. Buff flips Caber onto his back, grabs the jock-strapped cock, and jacks it steady while he keeps driving in. Caber’s load shoots first, thick ropes across his own stomach. Buff pulls out and blasts his own heavy shot over Caber’s chest and mask. But he’s not finished. The flood comes next, hot piss soaking the pup from neck to groin. Caber opens his mouth, tries to catch it, but ends up lying in the puddle anyway, breathing hard, gloves still on, body shining.