All geared up in his favorite jock, this bottom waits for his regular—rugged, well-hung, always delivers.
He lives for that thick slide and the slow build that turns into a steady rhythm. The street top takes charge—firm hands, intense stare, and a veiny piece that looks carved.
Clothes off, bodies flex, heat spikes. He teases with the head, then sinks in and works long strokes that make the bottom gasp and grab the sheets. Pace climbs, hips snap—he knows what’s next.
One last drive and the top fills him up. The rush sets the bottom off, shooting hard while he squeezes around the thickness. Both left breathless—pure chemistry, no fillers.
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bernard
1 June 2023 at 9 h 47 min
you have to keep your redneck seeds