Sex Shooters II

Joey Morgan grips the camera, his voice a low command slicing through the steam as he directs Nick Manetti and Randy Storm. They lather each other under the hot spray, hands gliding over slick skin, soap suds tracing every curve and ridge. Bodies gleam, clean and ready. Randy sinks to his knees, water cascading over his back. He takes Nick deep into his mouth, sucking with hungry rhythm, tongue swirling against the throbbing length. Joey's lens captures it all, hungry for the climax. He pulls Randy aside just in time—Nick's fist pumps his cock, veins pulsing, until ropes of thick cum erupt, splattering the fogged mirror in creamy streaks. Joey beckons Randy close, his free hand yanking open his jeans. The camera dips low as Randy swallows him whole, throat working like velvet fire. Randy's fingers squeeze and stroke the base, milking out Joey's load in hot, pulsing spurts down his eager gullet.