Arm Candy

Dolan Wolf’s hairy ass gleams under thick, white lube. Black and pink rubber clings to him like a second skin. Dylan Saunders drives his fist wrist-deep. Dolan’s hole yawns, and a flushed rosebud pushes out between swollen lips. He rises onto his toes, squats hard, and lets his weight force the knuckles farther in. The rubber creaks. Sweat beads on Dolan’s tattooed shoulders. Dylan twists, wrist flexing. That red, wrinkled center blooms wider, wet and obscene, framed by the dark hair that covers Dolan’s muscled cheeks.