I Spy

Devin Franco and Pierce Paris, inseparable friends with a spark that's always simmered, fire up a video call amid the lockdown haze. Words flow easy at first, but the air crackles with unspoken heat—their hunger for each other surges, raw and insistent. Devin shatters the quiet, his fingers tracing the chiseled lines of his torso, slicking his skin with oil that gleams under the screen's glow. He teases his hole, parting it with deliberate strokes, eyes locked on Pierce's. Pierce wastes no time, yanking out his thick cock, already throbbing. The two studs pump their rigid lengths in sync, breaths ragged across the digital divide. Pierce's voice drops low, urging a toy into the mix for that greedy ass. Devin grins, fetching a massive dildo that he eases in deep, stretching wide, the tip jabbing his prostate with exquisite precision. Pierce pictures his own huge shaft buried there, pounding out that bliss, and it tips him over—ropes of cum blast across his sheets in a torrent. The sight undoes Devin; he explodes, splattering his chest in sticky release. But Pierce craves seconds, his fire unquenched. Devin dives back in, fingers plunging his slick hole once more, while Pierce milks out another heavy load, the rush leaving them both spent and sated.