James Jones grips the sounding rod while Paolo Mickey lies spread-eagled, his hole already stretched by the thick metal as Dark Devil watches from behind, muscles flexing over the table’s cold steel. The rod slides deep with a wet, deliberate sound, each inch pushing further into Paolo’s tight asshole, his body trembling under the pressure. Medical tools lie scattered nearby, unused, this isn’t a checkup, just three men working the rod until it’s buried to the hilt.
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