Construction Zone 2 - Working Man's Hands

Daxx Reed comes at Steve Cannon with a greasy hand and zero patience. He works that ink-covered hole until it gives, sliding knuckle by knuckle past the ring. Steve lies there, gut breathing hard, legs shaking while Daxx opens him wider. Sweat rolls off Daxx’s shoulders, his forearm shiny with lube. Steve growls low, a long rumble, the sound a man makes when pleasure turns to ache. Daxx keeps pushing, never slowing, until Steve’s hole takes him past the wrist. One last twist, a stretch that leaves Steve gasping, and Daxx pulls free. He straddles Steve’s chest, jerks once, twice, and paints thick stripes across the black lines of Steve’s tattoos. 2005. Two working men, one hole wrecked, one load claimed.