VIP - The Hustle

Johnny V, the stripper-bartender with a wicked grin, can't keep his eyes off the new dancer, Scott Riley. The boss's warning rings in his ears—hands off—but Johnny smirks, muttering he'll make do with the rest of his body. In the dimly lit dressing room, he seizes Scott's wrist, pressing the dancer's palm firmly against his throbbing cock. Both men gleam under the lights, smooth and muscled, blond locks damp with sweat from the pulsing dance floor. Johnny tugs Scott's trunks down in one swift pull, dropping to his knees. He engulfs Scott's shaft in deep, ravenous swallows, lavishing those plum-sized balls with teasing licks and sucks. Scott's breath hitches, his body arching. Johnny rises, shoves him back onto the counter, and dives in—thrusting his tongue into Scott's twitching hole with relentless hunger. Ecstasy locks Scott in place, breathless and quivering, a willing captive to the fire. Scott slides down, kneeling now, his lips wrapping around Johnny's fat cock. He pumps it with firm strokes, then drives forward, face-fucking himself in greedy rhythm. Johnny's shout echoes as he erupts, painting Scott's chest and chin with a warm, sticky wad—like cream on forbidden fruit. Scott laps at the pulsating length, cleaning every drop with devoted swipes of his tongue. Then he stands, aiming his own rigid erection at Johnny's face, and unleashes his load in hot, spraying jets.