Fistpack 19 - Fist Bump

Bo Matthews had shown up in Raging Stallion titles before, but this was his first run in the fisting line, and he nailed the audition the second he walked in with Colin. The guy stopped the room cold—tall, cut face, body built like a dare, voice that slid under your skin. Bo led him around, letting every set of eyes take a long, hungry look. Once they hit the lights, the two settled in for a slow, filthy grind that built and built. Bo’s fingers worked fast, prying Colin open, then he pushed thick toys in one after another, stretching the muscle until it gave. He rolled Colin onto his belly and drove in deeper, knuckles buried, palm pressing hard. Breath ragged, Colin pushed up, flipped the script. He shoved Bo down, slicked his cock, and rammed straight up Bo’s hole. Hips snapped, rhythm locked. While he pumped, Colin reached back, slid two greasy fingers between his own cheeks, then a third, a fourth. With a twist of the wrist his fist disappeared inside himself. He kept fucking Bo, every thrust of his cock matched by the piston of his own arm, knuckles stretching him wide as he drove deeper into both holes at once.