Spring Break

Chris and David crash through the door of Coach Jeff Converse's quiet home, their eyes hungry for more than just drills on the field. Jeff's surprise melts into a sly grin—he's been waiting for this spark of team spirit to ignite. He pulls them close, his voice a low rumble as he schools them in the art of release: firm grips on throbbing shafts, teasing the slick heads until pre-cum beads like dew. But words fade fast. Clothes hit the floor in a frantic heap. Chris drops to his knees first, his mouth watering at David's big, fat cock—thick as a wrist, veins pulsing like ropes. He spits, coats it glossy, then takes it deep, gagging just enough to thrill. Jeff watches, stroking his own monster, before joining the fray. They spit-lube every tight hole, no mercy in this raw three-way tangle. David bends Jeff over the couch, slamming that girth into his coach's greedy ass—wet slaps echoing like applause. Chris mounts from behind, his cock plunging into David, chaining the rhythm: thrust for thrust, sweat-slick bodies grinding in perfect, filthy sync. Holes stretch wide, clenching around invading thickness, moans ripping free as they chase the edge together. School's out, but this lesson in ecstasy? It lingers, hot and unforgettable.