Rear End Collision 2 - Lube Job

The camera locks on Marc Sterling the second he steps in. Twenty-three years old, blond, and every inch of him tense with first-scene nerves. His boots hit the floor hard as the leather straps circle his wrists. The guy behind him keeps one gloved hand on Marc’s neck and the other between his cheeks, working two fingers in and out until the hole starts to open. Marc grunts through his teeth, pushes back, and takes three. A quick palm of lube and the fist slides forward. His back arches, boots scrape the floor, but he keeps taking it. Spit shines on the shaft that feeds him next, and the camera catches the exact second the knuckles disappear. His jaw drops, eyes wide, that first-fist look everyone recognizes. He breathes, settles, and the wrist turns inside him while the strap around his forearm tightens. The rhythm stays slow, deliberate, until every inch of the fist sinks in and holds. Marc’s thighs shake, but he doesn’t pull away.