Sleaze

When Justin Riddick's credit card bounces at the seedy motel desk, the sexy bald stud flashes a sly grin and offers up his tipsy trick, Tyler Alexy, as payment. Hirsute desk clerk Dak Ramsey, inked from neck to knuckles, wastes no time. He unzips and strokes his thick, throbbing cock, eyes locked on the action unfolding in the dim lobby light. Riddick bends Alexy over the counter, rams into him with raw hunger, thrusts deep until he unloads, then shoves the spent twink straight into Ramsey's waiting lap. But Alexy's craving runs wild—he devours every inch of Ramsey's muscled frame, lips and tongue tracing furred chest and taut abs, stoking the fire until Ramsey snaps. He seizes Alexy, spins him like a ragdoll, and unleashes a whirlwind of positions: doggy against the wall, legs hooked over shoulders, ass high as Ramsey pounds away. Those long, punishing strokes—plunging in, pulling out, slick and relentless—make Alexy's hole clench and quiver. His own cock, rigid and leaking, slaps against his belly with every brutal slam, turning the raw frenzy into pure, unmissable heat.