Race Cooper moans soft and low as he rocks in a sling, swaying ever so gently to and fro, propelled by that hand that fists him: Tony Buff’s hand.
Race lies there crooning, pulling his hard black cock, his eyes closed as the fists goes deeper and the endorphins elevate. Tony’s black-gloved hands are white with lube as he carefully stretches Race’s hole, progressing from fingers to knuckles to his entire fist.
He grins from the pleasure his skill is delivering in alternating lefts and rights. He sticks a finger in deep, to massage Race’s prostate, then uses both hands to spread and widen the entrance to Race’s deepest recesses. With serious fisting top skill, Tony gets well past his gloved hand and finesses his way forearm deep into Race’s stretched, open hole.
The waves of sexual excitement are coming harder and faster now. Race’s eyes pop open wide and his mouth forms an ‘O’ of surprise as a fountain of jism rushes from his cock.
Tony stands and unbuttons, pulls out his own cock, and adds his jizz to the white lube coating Race’s buns.