Manhole 2

Brock Armstrong locks eyes with Andrew Justice. Their cocks take over the chatter, twitching and thickening in silent negotiation. But Brock craves deeper dialogue. He drops to his knees and engulfs Andrew's curved shaft, tongue tracing its elegant arc before he gulps it down, lips sealing tight around the base. Andrew hungers for his turn. He buries his face in Brock's hairy cleft, tongue lapping with fervent strokes, rimming the musky furrow until Brock quivers. Then Andrew latches onto Brock's cock, sucking with greedy pulls that draw out low groans. Desire surges like a fever in Andrew's veins. He positions himself and thrusts his rigid length into Brock's ass, initiating a raw, rhythmic rut. Hips clash in furious cadence, sweat-slicked skin slapping. Climax builds, unstoppable. Andrew withdraws and unleashes ropes of hot seed across Brock's broad chest, marking him in glistening arcs. Brock seizes the moment, fisting his own throbbing cock. He erupts, splattering thick spurts onto Andrew's boot. Without pause, Brock leans in and laps up every drop, tongue polishing the leather clean.