The Hand That Fists You

Race Cooper sways in the sling. Tony Buff’s fist drives in and out of him with slow, steady force. Race works his black cock, eyes shut, riding the stretch as Tony’s gloved hands push past the knuckles. Lubed fingers open him wider, then both hands spread the rim. Tony switches left and right, pressing past the wrist until his forearm slides deep. Race’s breath catches; he shoots hard, a thick rope of cum splattering his stomach. Tony stands, opens his fly, and strokes until his load joins the mess on Race’s ass and boots.