Fit For Service

The shift drags to its close, and medics Tom Wolfe and Tristan Jaxx converge in the locker room's steamy hush. Talk turns to the fresh recruits—Tom admits some pack serious heat down there. Tristan smirks, unfazed. 'They've got nothing on this,' he declares, and lets his towel fall. His uncut cock swings free, thick and commanding. Tom's eyes widen, hunger sparking. He sinks to his knees, wraps his lips around that meaty length, and swallows deep. Tristan stretches out on his back, thighs parting. Tom mounts him, gagging his throat with fierce, relentless thrusts—face-fucking him raw. Duty calls for excellence, Tom figures. He flips Tristan, spreads those firm cheeks, and dives in tongue-first, rimming that tight hole with devoted laps. Service escalates: Tom lines up his rigid dick and drives it home, pounding Tristan's ass. He varies the rhythm—hammering hard and fast, then easing into slow, tender strokes that tease the edge. Tension coils, bodies slick and straining, until release crashes over them both. They erupt, nuts emptying in shuddering bliss.