Warehouse Fists

Zack Taylor hunches like he’s set to bolt. His back stays smooth while his pale, hairy ass cheeks split wide. Brian Bonds plants his fist in the crack and works the ring, coaxing it open. He stretches Zack with his thumbs, then slides both palms in side by side, feeding eight fingers at once. The hole gives with a raw cry and Brian drives in deeper, left-right-left, fists pumping in tight rhythm. When Brian stands, we see his face and the sweat on his chest. He leans over for a hard lip chew, then drops back to punch slow and steady. Zack lies on his back, knees high, fist wrapped around his own cock. He strokes fast, breath hissing, until he shoots hard—thick ropes splashing across his furry belly. Brian bends low and tongues every drop.