Just For You

Jason Goodman and Jack Patrick size each other up through the fabric, eyes hungry. But nothing compares to the reveal when shirts and pants hit the floor. Jason, the smooth-skinned muscle god, seizes the staircase banisters like an Olympian on the rings. He hoists himself airborne, legs splayed. Jack kneels below, lips devouring Jason's throbbing cock and heavy balls in one greedy swoop. Jason's glutes rise high—round, firm orbs begging for attention. Jack obliges, plunging two fingers into that searing hole, twisting like a relentless drill, stoking the fire within. Jack's hands circle Jason's waist, pulling him down for a deep, urgent kiss. Tongues clash as Jack guides him downstairs, where Jason drops to his knees. He takes Jack's cock in his mouth, swirling his tongue with expert precision. Jack groans, chest heaving. 'You're pretty good at this,' he mutters, voice rough with approval. Jason's cheeks hollow as he sucks harder, drawing out every pulse, while Jack's pecs rise and fall like bellows. Then Jason pounces, impaling himself on Jack's rigid shaft. His hole swallows it whole, precise and eager. From that moment, Jason owns the rhythm. He rides with wild abandon, treating Jack's cock like a custom-forged dildo—testing every angle, every thrust direction, every blistering speed. He could bottle this frenzy and market it as the ultimate hole workout, a symphony of self-fueled ecstasy. They shift to doggy style on the cool floor, but Jason never yields control. His hands grip his own glutes, spreading them wide, clenching his ring tight around Jack's invading length. He rocks back fiercely, meeting each pounding thrust as the cock barrels deep into his core, stretching him to the brink. Jack unloads first, his release erupting in a hot white stripe down Jason's arched spine. Jason, stroking his own cock in a blur throughout the frenzy, unleashes a torrent—squirting ropes across the floor in a massive, shuddering climax.