Trenton Ducati and Donnie Dean
Trenton Ducati and Donnie Dean stand nipple to nipple and navel to navel, making out. The fabric of their skimpy swim trunks is stretched taut by hard flesh. Donnie swoops down to grab the bull by the horn — and what a horn! Firm and fat, thick at the tip and thicker at the base, with an upward curve guaranteed to tickle any prostate. First, Donnie gets his throat packed. While Donnie sucks, Trenton grabs one of his hands and pulls it across the smooth, hard-muscled planes of his torso. Turning Donnie to the wall, Trenton grabs his swimsuit, using his teeth and hands to slip it off. Donnie’s high bubble butt is the object of Trenton’s desire, and he kneads and spreads the cheeks of his prize. Donnie flops onto the bed and Trenton drills his hole with a finger, using the other hand to swat his buns. Donnie humps the mattress, abandoning himself to the carnal bliss of Trenton’s tongue basting and probing his hole. Trenton lies full-length on top of him and surfs Donnie’s crack with his raging meat. Then he spears Donnie’s hole with his cock. From doggy to missionary to sit-fuck, they drain each other of every ounce of pleasure, and ultimately every drop of jism. Donnie laps up the spooge the same way he lapped up the attention.
