Hot Pursuit

Jason Andrews stands at the heart of it, sweat-slicked and breathless, amid the raw frenzy of six men locked in an orgy over a green-felted pool table. Tony Belmonte, that chiseled stud, grips Joe's hips and thrusts deep, his cock plunging with relentless rhythm into Romero's tight ass while Romero moans, his own shaft hardening against the table's edge. Brett Ford circles like a predator, sliding his thick length into Michael's mouth—Steel sucks greedily, eyes locked upward, throat working to take every inch. Chuck Hunter joins the tangle, his strong hands pulling Jason closer; he bends low, tongue flicking Jason's balls before shoving in, fucking him slow at first, then harder, the slap of skin echoing off the walls. They shift, a fluid knot of desire: Tony pulls out of Joe to claim Brett's ass, pounding with a growl; Joe flips to straddle Michael, grinding down as Steel's cock fills him up. Chuck withdraws from Jason only to switch with Tony, their bodies swapping partners in a heated blur, cocks slick with spit and cum, holes stretched and eager for more. Laughter and grunts mingle in the air, the pool cues forgotten props in this symphony of flesh. Off to the side, Brad Phillips pours drinks with a knowing smirk, while Richard Rollins racks the balls, his gaze lingering on the writhing mass but hands staying clean of the fun.