Fistpack 14 - Mancaves

Michael Johns cracks open his own hidden room. Billy Ryder drives both fists inside him. Michael swallows every inch, one after the other. His hole blooms, lips stretched wide, pulsing with every thrust. Billy works the boots off and gets back in. Fingers slip in first, two, then four, then the whole hand. Michael grunts and pushes back. Another fist follows fast. The walls of the man cave echo with wet sound and heavy breath. Rosebuds crown and vanish, pink flesh slick and shining. Billy keeps the pressure on. Michael opens wider. Boots scuff concrete. Sweat runs down thighs. The fists move like they own the place, pulling, turning, filling Michael up again and again until nothing else fits.