Body Shop

Trenton Ducati slips away to the supply room, his hand already wrapped around his throbbing cock, stroking with urgent need. But this dim corner hides no secrets. Erik Rhodes follows, driven by the same raw hunger, his own erection straining against his pants. They lock eyes, hard-ons mirroring each other like twin flames. These muscled titans collide in a fierce embrace, lips crashing together in a sloppy, devouring kiss. Hands roam, belts unbuckle, and soon mouths find cocks—wet, insistent suction pulling moans from deep chests. Down in the shop, Marc Dylan steals glances at Landon Conrad's chiseled frame, sweat-glistened and impossible to ignore. Distraction hits hard; Marc's fingers fumble with Landon's zipper, freeing that thick shaft. He drops to his knees and swallows it whole, tongue swirling around the pulsing length. Landon groans, then flips the script—yanking Marc's pants down to nurse on his rigid dick, savoring every inch with greedy pulls. Landon lifts Marc onto the hydraulic jack, raising him like an offering. He spreads those firm cheeks and dives in, tongue lashing Marc's tight hole, rimming with slick, teasing precision until it's slick and begging. Primed and ready, Landon thrusts in deep, pounding with feverish rhythm. Marc arches, they chase release—Landon unloads first, hot spurts filling him, then Marc erupts, ropes of cum painting the air. Breaths still ragged, the door swings open. Trenton and Erik burst in from the closet, cocks still slick and hard. They take turns assaulting Marc's ass, driving into him with relentless force. The overload hits like lightning—Marc surprises them all, his cock twitching to life for a second, explosive spray of jizz arcing high.