He's Got The Moves

Unpacking stirs something primal in Connor Kline. Horny as hell, he flops onto the couch and spreads his legs wide, an invitation no one could miss. Hayden Richards reads the signal loud and clear. His hand slides down Connor's thigh, firm and teasing, before tugging the zipper of those jeans open. Connor's already rock-hard, straining against the fabric. Leaning in, Connor parts his lips and takes Hayden into his mouth, sucking deep and eager as Hayden strips them both bare. Connor's body gleams—smooth skin stretched over rippling muscle, tattoos curling like secrets across his chest and arms. Hayden's built like a distance runner, lean and wired, his fat balls heavy with promise. He murmurs low encouragements, thrusting into Connor's throat, who answers with wet gulps and gurgles that echo through the room. Hayden heaves up a massive carton to clear space for them on the floor. The bottom gives way with a crash, spilling an avalanche of porno mags and sex toys in a glorious mess. Snatching a long dildo, Hayden waves it like a conductor's baton, eyes gleaming. 'Ready for more fun?' Connor drops to his knees, spreads his cheeks, and bends over, offering himself up. Those perfectly shaped, firm buns part like they're starving, swallowing the dildo whole—his hole a hungry vacuum that pulls it in deep. He rocks back, groaning loud, demanding 'harder' in a voice rough with need. Once he's stretched wide and gaping, Connor climbs onto Hayden's cock, bouncing with wild rhythm, taking every inch. They pause the frenzy so Hayden can drop down and suck Connor off, lips working magic. Then they lock together again, missionary style, Hayden pounding relentlessly. Connor's pumped pecs jolt with each thrust, sweat-slick and heaving. Balls churning, they grip their cocks and unleash, spraying thick ropes of spooge across Connor's hard abs in a sticky finale.