Adam Killian’s thick fingers stretch Sean Weiss’s hole open, the tight ring pulsing as he works the knuckle deep before pulling back with a wet pop, his beard rough against the other man’s neck. The green leaves crumpled at their feet mark the only trace of anything but the way Killian’s grip never loosens, his knuckles slick with spit and ass juice as Weiss braces against the wall, his own fingers digging into Killian’s shoulders. The air smells like sweat and the sharp tang of lube, the only sound the slow, deliberate drag of skin over stretched muscle.
More fisting galleries
