Fistpack 14 - Mancaves

Mason Garet lies back, boots planted, jockstrap stretched tight across his hard-on. Matthew Soul works his mouth over Mason's hole, tongue deep, spit running down the crack. Each lap pulls a low growl from Mason's chest. His pierced cock jerks, steel glinting under the lights, stiff enough to punch through metal. Matthew pulls away, eyes dark. One finger slides in, then two. Mason pushes back, hungry. Soon four digits stretch him wide, Matthew's hand slick and steady. He curls them, working the knuckles, and Mason's moans turn ragged. The fist packs in slow, wrist twisting, forearm tense. Mason's boots scrape the floor. His hole swallows to the wrist, gripping tight. Matthew rocks his arm, opening him further, each thrust drawing another raw sound. The 2007 footage catches every flex, every shine of sweat on skin. Mason takes it deeper, breathing hard, begging without words for Matthew to stay inside and never stop.