Fistpack 17: Grunts Fisting - Arm Of One

Aaron’s hands shake with hunger. He slams Billy against the depot wall, yanks down the regulation shorts, and drives his fist straight in. Billy locks on the arm and rides it like a bronc, jaw clenched, boots scraping concrete. Aaron works deeper, wrist twisting, knuckles grinding past the second ring until Billy’s hole swallows the muscle to the elbow. Still hungry, Aaron hauls out the fat man-rammer dildo and slams it home, one brutal thrust after another. Billy grunts, bears down, but it isn’t enough. Aaron snatches a loaded shooter, cold steel flashing, and shoves the barrel straight up the stretched chute. Billy’s eyes go wide. The metal kisses his gland and lightning fires through his guts. ‘Don’t fuckin’ shoot!’ he howls. The gun stays steady. His hole convulses around steel and fist. Billy’s cock surges, pumps thick ropes across the floor, body shaking in the aftershock while Aaron keeps the pressure right where it hurts best.