Fistpack 10 - Best In Hole

Three hungry holes, three heavy hitters. Taurus plants his boots and rams his fist wrist-deep into Chris Neal while the tattooed pig grunts and pushes back. Next to them Matthieu Paris works Cristiano open, sliding past the knuckles until the hairy bottom’s shoulders drop and his hole swallows another inch. On the right François Sagat drives both hands into Javier de Cerdo’s smooth cinnamon crack, leather straps digging into Javier’s thighs every time the fist twists deeper. The three bottoms stay on all fours, asses locked together in a circle, taking punch after punch until their screams rise in sync. The tops don’t slow. They shove deeper, knuckles popping, grease shining on their gloves. The air is thick with sweat, boots scraping concrete, and raw, ragged breathing. By the time the trio climaxes together, every hole is wide, throbbing, and wrecked exactly the way they begged for it.