Night Watch II

Order up a slab of blond male perfection, and Michael Anthony delivers. He stands there, half-naked, fist clamped tight around his cock, stroking the shaft with fierce, building rhythm—faster, harder, each pull demanding more. Chad Connors eyes the prize, hunger blazing like a pilot on a suicide run. He lunges, engulfs that thick length whole, tongue swirling in frantic devotion. Michael turns the favor, his skilled mouth rimming Chad's hole clean and quivering. Then Chad mounts him, that pert blond bubble butt rising and slamming down the lanky stud's pole until ecstasy erupts—twin geysers of cum arcing high.