Rusty with Toy

Round two with Rusty, and he's eager, unpacking a fresh toy that packs a punch. 'As big as my forearm!' he quips when I ask if he's checked it out. Not quite, but this manrammer is a beast—a thick rubber rod he's set to bury in his ass. He slicks up first, fingers gliding over his hole with generous lube, then coats the pole until it gleams. He settles on the couch, rolls onto his back, legs splayed. With care, he parts his cheeks, stretching that slick sphincter wide. The tip hovers, teasing the rim before he eases it in, slow and deliberate. Tight as a vice, it grips him; he inches it deeper, breath hitching. His ass devours the rod, reluctant to let go, pulling it in like a lover's secret. Deeper still, testing limits. In and out, in and out—the rhythm builds, that manrammer weaving its spell. Lost in the haze, pleasure cresting fast, Rusty yanks it free. His hand takes over, stroking hard, grunts ripping from his throat as he erupts, spilling his load in hot, heavy ropes.