Fourgy

Two men, already stripped bare, their bodies taut and eager, welcome a third into the fray. The newcomer sheds his clothes swiftly, eyes locked on Bo—their blond companion, his skin pale as fresh cream. What begins as a simple joining erupts into a tag-team ravishing. They circle Bo like wolves, hands slick with oil, cocks rigid and gleaming. The first claims his lily-white ass, thrusting deep with a low growl, while the second feeds his length into Bo's willing mouth. They alternate, each pounding that tight rear until muscles clench and release in shuddering waves. Cum erupts—hot spurts painting Bo's cheeks and filling his throat, a double-ended baptism. A brief pause, breaths ragged, skin glistening under the dim light. But hunger stirs anew. These long-haired, muscled lads—each a sculpted force—dive back in. One buries himself in Bo's ass again, hips snapping with feral rhythm, while the other claims his lips, fucking his mouth with unyielding precision. They switch seamlessly, building that exquisite tension. Both reach the edge, cumming in unison—ropes of seed spilling across Bo's face and down his gullet. Yet they aren't done. Sated only momentarily, they mount him once more, cocks plunging into both ends, chasing that final, thunderous release.