Tales From The Locker Room 2

Young jock Masyn Thorne freezes in the locker room doorway, eyes wide at the sight of muscle-bound Jim Fit hunched over a pile of sweat-soaked jockstraps, nose buried deep, inhaling like a man starved. Disgust twists Masyn's face. He lays into the perverted college stud, voice sharp with scorn. But then, with a wicked glint, Masyn yanks down his shorts. He shoves Jim's face right into the ripe pouch of his jockstrap, worn all day through practice and beyond, the musk thick and heady. Jim's nostrils flare. He takes deep, greedy sniffs of that pungent crotch. Masyn's floppy cock tumbles free from the fabric's grip. Jim doesn't hesitate—he swallows it whole, throat working until gags rip from his chest, saliva dripping. The bossy twink claims his prize next, plunging his face into Jim's hairy pits, tongue lapping the salty tang. He hawks a thick spit into Jim's gaping mouth, watching it slide down. Then Masyn bends, offers up his hungry hole. Jim thrusts in raw, bareback, filling him with urgent strokes. On the bench, Masyn rides that stranger's cock hard, hips grinding. Pleasure coils tight. His balls unleash a hot, sticky load, splattering across Jim's chiseled torso. Jim chases his own peak, hand pumping his shaft while Masyn's tongue spears into his sweaty jock hole, rimming with relentless hunger.