I’m getting back into writing, so in the spirit of full disclosure, I had an AI assist me with this. The story, however, is very much my creative piece and brainchild, so do with this information what you will.
—Alex
"You ever notice how Grant always smells like pine tar and bullshit?" Tyler muttered, tightening his grip on the bat. The dugout bench creaked under his weight as he leaned forward, watching Grant's silhouette against the stadium lights—broad shoulders, tapered waist, that cocky strut as he adjusted his cup.
"Like he's trying to rub it in our faces," Jake said, cracking his knuckles. The rest of the team shifted in the dugout, eyes locked on Grant as he rounded third base after another easy home run. His uniform clung to his thighs, damp with sweat, and the outline of his jockstrap was visible through the thin fabric when he stretched.
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The stadium lights flickered off one by one as Grant slung his duffel bag over his shoulder, the gravel crunching under his cleats. He didn't hear the footsteps behind him until the bat handle hooked around his throat, yanking him backward into the shadow of the equipment truck.
"Mmmpff—!" The sound was cut short as Tyler's palm smashed over his mouth, the taste of leather and dirt from his batting gloves filling Grant's nostrils. Grant's muffled screams hit the humid air as Tyler's knee dug into the small of his back, pinning him face-first against the truck's cold metal siding. Jake wasted no time—duct tape hissed from the roll as it circled Grant's wrists behind him, the sticky bite of it pulling at his skin.
"Mmmrrrff! Nnngh—!" Grant bucked, thighs straining against his uniform pants, but three more hands were on him now, dragging him toward the open trunk of a sedan. His cleats scraped uselessly on the pavement before they lifted him by his waistband, the fabric biting into his hips as they tossed him inside. Grant's nostrils flared as the strip of duct tape tore free from the roll with a sharp rip, the sound slicing through his panicked breathing. Tyler's fingers dug into his jaw, forcing his mouth shut as the silver tape pressed down over his lips—first one pass, then another, crisscrossing in an X that sealed his screams into muffled, wet hums.
"MMMPPHH! NNRRGGHH—!" His throat vibrated against the sticky restraint, spit already pooling behind the tape as he thrashed his head side to side. Jake just laughed, winding another strip around Grant's head, trapping a few strands of his sweat-damp hair in the process. "Look at this fucking hero," Tyler sneered, dragging a calloused thumb along the curve of Grant's taped jaw, smearing sweat and saliva down his throat. The car rocked as someone shoved a knee into Grant's ribs, laughter bubbling up when his muffled groan hitched higher.
"Bet you thought you were untouchable after that grand slam, huh? Pretty boy swinging his dick around like he owns the field—"
The trunk slammed shut, plunging Grant into suffocating darkness, the scent of old gym bagsand gasoline thick in his nose. The engine roared to life, tires screeching as the sedan peeled out of the parking lot, sending Grant sliding across the trunk’s carpeted interior—his shoulder jammed against a tire iron, his bound wrists twisting awkwardly beneath him.
"Mmmrrrff! Nnngh—!" He kicked blindly, his cleats thudding against the lid, but the laughter from the front seats only grew louder.The car jerked to a stop, and Grant's body slammed forward, his forehead connecting with something hard—probably a toolbox. Pain splintered behind his eyes, but the ache barely registered over the panic clawing up his throat. The trunk flew open, and hands grabbed him by the ankles, yanking him out onto asphalt still warm from the summer heat.
"MMMMPPHH!" Grant's scream tore uselessly against the tape as they hauled him upright, his knees buckling until Tyler hooked an arm around his waist, fingers digging into the sweat-slick fabric over his hip.
The fluorescent lights of the locker room buzzed overhead as they dragged Grant inside, his cleats leaving skid marks on the tile floor. "Mmmpff! Nnngh—!" His throat burned from the effort, the duct tape stretching tight with every muffled scream. Tyler shoved Grant face-first against the bench, the wood pressing into his abs. Hands—too many hands—grabbed at his uniform, yanking his jersey up over his head, the fabric catching on the tape around his wrists before it tore free. Cool air hit his sweat-slicked skin, and someone whistled low at the sight of his tan, toned torso, the defined ridges of his abs twitching under their scrutiny.
"MMMPPHH! NNGGHH—!" Grant's screams were nothing but wet, desperate vibrations against the duct tape as Tyler's fingers traced the sweat-slicked dip of his lower back, following the curve down to where his uniform pants clung to his ass. The fabric was dark with sweat, the outline of his jockstrap visible beneath—the pouch straining against Grant's thick cock, already half-hard from panic and friction. Jake grabbed a fistful of Grant's hair, yanking his head back to expose the frantic pulse in his throat.
"Look at him," he laughed, thumbing the tape over Grant's mouth, smearing spit where it had started to loosen. "Like a fucking racehorse—all muscle and no brains."
Grant’s throat clenched around another muffled scream as Tyler’s fingers hooked into the waistband of his pants, peeling them down his thighs with deliberate slowness. The air hit his sweat-slicked skin, goosebumps rising along his quivering legs as the fabric pooled around his ankles. His cock strained against the damp white cotton of his jockstrap, the outline obscenely visible—thick and twitching, the head glistening where precum had soaked through.
“Nnnghh—MMMPPHH!” He arched against the bench, but Jake’s palm slammed between his shoulder blades, pinning him flat. The jockstrap’s elastic snapped against Grant’s thighs as Tyler finally peeled it down, exposing his swollen cock—thick veins pulsing under flushed skin, the head slick with precum. Someone groaned, calloused fingers wrapping around the shaft and squeezing hard enough to wring a strangled “MMRRRFFF!” from Grant’s taped mouth. His hips jerked involuntarily into the touch, muscles flexing under sweat-sheened skin as the team crowded closer, their laughter rough and hungry.
The locker room smelled of sweat, cheap soap, and something sharper—the tang of Grant’sfear as Jake’s fingers dug into his hips, forcing his ass higher. The bench groaned under hisweight, the wood pressing into his abs as Tyler spat into his palm and rubbed it over Grant’s twitching hole. "MmmRRRFFF!" Grant’s scream was a wet, muffled burst behind the tape, his thighs shaking as Tyler’s thumb circled the tight rim, pressing in just enough to make his back arch. The duct tape tore free with a sickening rip, taking patches of stubble with it as Grant gasped for air—only for Jake’s fist to cram a wadded-up jockstrap deep into his mouth. The fabric reeked of sweat and stale cum, the salt-bitter taste flooding Grant’s tongue as he gagged, his throat convulsing around the intrusion.
"MMMRRFFF! NNGGHH—!" Spit dripped down his chin as he thrashed, but Tyler was already looping a white cloth over his face, knotting it tight behind his skull, the fabric stretching taut over his stuffed mouth. The jockstrap shifted with every choked moan, the damp cotton clinging to his palate. Grant’s fingers clawed at the bench as Tyler’s spit-slicked thumb breached him, the blunt pressure forcing a ragged "NNGGHHH!" against the jockstrap gag. His toes curled against the tile floor, thighs trembling as Tyler leaned in, his breath hot against Grant’s ear.
“Bet you’ve never taken anything this big, huh, slugger?” The team’s laughter buzzed like the fluorescents overhead as Jake shoved Grant’s shoulders down, pinning him flat just as Tyler’s cockhead nudged against his resisting rim. Tyler’s body was a testament to years of stolen bases and dugout push-ups—ridged abs stacked like armor plates beneath sweat-slicked skin, his hip bones sharp enough to carve ice. The locker room light glinted off the sheen of sweat pooling in the hollow of his throat, trailing down to the thick thatch of dark hair between his legs. His cock jutted out, flushed and veiny, the head glistening with precum as it bobbed against Grant’s twitching hole. Beneath it, his balls hung heavy, sweat beading along the tight skin, swaying with every impatient shift of his hips.
Grant’s scream dissolved into a wet, choked gargle as Tyler’s hips snapped forward, burying his cock to the hilt in one brutal thrust. The bench shuddered under them, Grant’s fingers splintering wood as his back arched violently—muscles straining, abs flexing in sharp relief under sweat-slicked skin.
"MMMRRRFFF! NNGGHH—!" The gag muffled nothing; his throat vibrated with the force of it, spit-soaked cloth stretching tight over his jaw. Tyler groaned, his hands bracketing Grant’s hips, thumbs digging into the dimples above his ass as he pulled out halfway before slamming back in.
Grant's ass was built for the diamond—round and firm like a pair of water balloons stuffed into his jock, each cheek flexing with every brutal thrust Tyler delivered. Sweat dripped down the cleft, glistening under the locker room fluorescents as his hole stretched obscenely around Tyler's cock, the pink rim fluttering with each withdrawal. His back muscles rippled like live wires, shoulders tensing and releasing in a desperate rhythm, moaning with every spasmodic jerk of his spine.
"MMMRRRFFF!" The jockstrap gag bulged against the cloth tied over his mouth, Grant's throat working around the fabric as Tyler's balls slapped against his taint, the sound wet and sharp in the humid air.
"Fucking *listen* to that," Tyler growled, his hips pistoning into Grant’s ass with the same brutal rhythm he used to swing for the fences. Every thrust punched another wet, gagged moan from Grant’s stuffed mouth— "Nnnghh! Mmmrrrff!" —his throat convulsing around the sweat-soaked jockstrap. Tyler’s calloused fingers dug into Grant’s hips, lifting him higher, driving deeper.
"Sound like a goddamn whore when you’re gagged, don’t you? Bet you’ve been dreaming about this— needing it—every time you rubbed one out in the showers after practice."
For Grant, Tyler’s cock was a branding iron—searing heat splitting him open inch by inch, the swollen veins dragging against his inner walls like knotted rope. Each thrust carved a new kind of ache, deeper than muscle strain, hotter than a fastball to the ribs. The stretch burned in a way that made his toes curl involuntarily, his thighs quaking against the bench as Tyler’s hips snapped forward again, driving him into the wood grain. The jockstrap in his mouth soaked up his strangled moans, but nothing could stifle the way his body clenched, spasming around the intrusion like his nerves were live wires. Grant's vision blurred at the edges, sweat dripping from his brow onto the bench beneath him asTyler's thrusts grew erratic—short, sharp snaps of his hips that made Grant's stomach muscles twitch violently. The jockstrap in his mouth was a sodden, salty weight, his jaw aching from the relentless pressure of the cloth tied over his mouth.
"Nnnghh! MMRRRFFF—!" His scream hitched higher when Tyler's fingers twisted into his hair, yanking his head back to expose the frantic bob of his Adam's apple. Tyler's groan was ragged against his ear, his breath scorching Grant's skin as his cock pulsed deep inside him, flooding his ass with thick, molten heat.
"Fuck—take it",Tyler snarled, grinding his hips in tight circles to milk every last drop into Grant's clenched hole. The moment Tyler pulled out, Grant’s hole clenched around nothing, dripping with a mixture of sweat and cum that painted his trembling thighs. His breath came in ragged, gagged bursts— "Hnnngh! Mmmrrrff!" —as hands flipped him onto his back, the locker room bench digging into his spine. Jake’s silhouette loomed over him, his cock already glistening with precum, the tip brushing against Grant’s abused rim.
"My turn," he muttered, lining himself up without ceremony before slamming home in one brutal stroke. Grant’s body bowed off the bench, his scream muffled by the soaked jockstrap as Jake’s hips met his ass with a wet slap. Jake's body was a roadmap of sunburn lines and baseball diamond dust—tan skin streaked with pale patches where his uniform usually shielded him, the sharp angles of his hips and collarbones catching the locker room light like polished leather. His cleats were still laced tight, the metal spikes clicking against the tile as he braced one foot on the bench beside Grant’s head, the white fabric of his socks stained with dirt and grass. The batting gloves clung to his hands, the fingers worn thin at the tips where he’d gripped too many bats, the leather smelling of pine tar and salt. His hat was backwards, the eye black smeared across his cheekbones made them look even sharper, like war paint for the kind of battle that didn’t involve bases.
Jake’s cock was thicker than Tyler’s—Grant could feel the difference immediately, the stretch bordering on unbearable as Jake bottomed out with a grunt. Every ridge, every vein carved itself into Grant’s raw insides, the ache radiating up his spine like a fastball to the kidneys. His thighstrembled uncontrollably, his abs flexing in sharp, spasmodic jerks as Jake pulled back almost entirely, the head of his cock catching on Grant’s rim before slamming home again.
"MMMRRRFFF—!" Grant’s scream dissolved into a wet, hiccupping moan, the jockstrap in his mouth swelling with saliva as Jake’s hips snapped forward relentlessly. The bench beneath him creaked with each thrust, the wood digging into his shoulder blades, but the pain was distant—secondary to the brutal fullness splitting him open. Grant's cock twitched violently against his stomach, the flushed head smearing translucent precum in erratic streaks across his toned abs with every brutal thrust Jake delivered. His hips bucked involuntarily, the motion only driving Jake deeper, and the thick vein running along the underside of his shaft pulsed obscenely—straining against sweat-slicked skin as another bead of precum welled up and dripped onto the shallow dip of his navel.
"Nnnghh! MMMRRRFFF—!"
The gag turned his scream into something wet and broken, his throat working around the sweat-soaked jockstrap as Jake's gloved hands pinned his wrists to the bench, the rope biting into his skin.
"Bet you never thought this would be your highlight reel, huh?" Jake sneered, his batting-gloved fingers digging into Grant's hips as he fucked him harder, the wet slap of skin echoing off the lockers. The jockstrap gag muffled Grant's scream, but Jake leaned down anyway, his breath hot and rancid.
"All those scouts watching you swing for the fences—should've seen your face when you realized this was the only hole you're good for." His laugh was a low, mean thing, punctuated by the sharp grind of his hips.
"MMMRRRFFF—!" Grant's thighs spasmed, his abs flexing as Jake's cock dragged against his prostate, the sensation sharp enough to make his toes curl against the tile. Jake's hips stuttered as he buried his cock inside one last time, his cock pulsing deep inside Grant's abused hole. The thick, hot spill of cum sent a fresh wave of tremors through Grant’s body—his thighs twitching, his abs clenching as Jake pulled out with a wet pop, leaving him gaping and dripping onto the bench. Before Grant could even catch his breath, another pair of hands yanked his legs wider, fingers digging into the meat of his thighs.
"MmmRRRFFF—!" The jockstrap gag turned his scream into a muffled sob as another cock pressed against his swollen rim, the blunt head catching on the overstimulated muscle before shoving inside. Grant’s hole throbbed around the third cock splitting him open—some senior transfer pitcher whose name he’d never bothered to learn, his thrusts erratic like his fastball control. The kid’s wiry frame trembled above him, sweat dripping from his chin onto Grant’s heaving chest, his bony hips pistoning with desperate, uneven rhythm.
"Nnnghh—MMMRRRFFF!" Grant’s gagged scream hitched higher when the kid’s fingers dug into his hipbones, the sharp press of nails contrasting with the dull ache of overused muscle. The locker room air smelled like semen and adrenaline now, the metallic tang of blood where Grant’s wrists had rubbed raw against the rope.
The pitcher’s hips stuttered, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he fucked into Grant with the same uncoordinated frenzy as his bullpen sessions—all raw power, no control. His fingers left crescent moons in Grant’s sweat-slicked skin, his cock pulsing hot and sudden as he came with a choked grunt, flooding Grant’s ass with another sticky load. The kid collapsed forward, his chest heaving against Grant’s abs, but hands were already dragging him off, tossing him aside like a broken bat.
"MMMRRRFFF—!" Grant’s scream tore against the gag as another body crowded over him, this one broader, smelling of cheap aftershave and sunflower seeds. The catcher's silhouette eclipsed the buzzing locker room lights—broad shoulders stretching the seams of his undershirt, his torso tapered into a waist that looked sculpted for lifting weights between innings. His abs weren't just defined; they were carved, each ridge shadowed with sweat as he loomed over Grant's sprawled body.
"MMMRRRFFF—!" Grant's gagged scream hitched when thick fingers—the same ones that framed pitches with lightning reflexes—dug into his thighs, spreading him wider. The catcher's cock swung heavy between his legs, thick as a bat handle and flushed dark at the tip, a glistening bead of precum smearing across Grant's trembling inner thigh. "MMPPHHH—!" Grant's gagged scream dissolved into a wet, hiccupping moan as thecatcher's cockhead scraped against his swollen rim, the thick ridge catching on his overstimulated muscle like a cleat digging into home plate. The jockstrap in his mouth swelled with spit, the damp cotton pressing deeper into his palate with every choked whimper— "Nnnghh! Hnnngh!" —his throat working uselessly around the fabric. The catcher's calloused fingers dug into Grant's spread thighs, thumbs pressing into the twitching meat of his inner legs as he leaned forward, his sweat-slicked torso eclipsing the buzzing locker room lights.
The catcher's hips rolled forward with the slow, deliberate power of a fastball hurtling toward home plate—his thick cock splitting Grant open inch by torturous inch, the stretch bordering on unbearable. "MMMRRRFFF—!" Grant's scream dissolved into a wet, hiccupping moan as his hole fluttered around the intrusion, his abs flexing violently under the catcher's sweat-sheened torso. Every vein, every ridge carved itself into Grant's raw insides, the ache radiating up his spine like a line drive to the ribs.
The catcher’s breath was hot against Grant’s ear, his voice a low growl that vibrated through Grant’s sweat-slicked skin.
“Never dreamed you’d be this full, huh, pretty boy?” His hips rammed forward without mercy, burying himself to the hilt in one brutal stroke. Grant’s body bowed off the bench, his scream muffled by the soaked jockstrap as the catcher’s balls slapped against his taint, the sound wet and loud in the humid air. "MMMRRRFFF—!" The gag turned his cry into a broken, hiccupping moan, his thighs trembling violently around the catcher’s thick waist. The catcher's rhythm was relentless—every thrust hammered Grant deeper into the bench, the wood groaning under their combined weight. His thick cock pistoned in and out with the same precision as his throws to second base, each snap of his hips driving Grant's gagged screams higher.
“MMPPPPPHHH—!" Spit dripped from the corners of Grant's stretched lips, the cloth over his mouth darkening with every wet exhale. The catcher's fingers dug into Grant's hipbones,thumbs pressing into the hollows where sweat pooled, his biceps flexing as he lifted Grant's ass off the bench just to slam him back down harder. The catcher’s release came with a bark of “Fuck!” his hips jerking erratically as his cock pulsed deep inside Grant’s wrecked hole, flooding him with another scalding rush of cum. Grant’s thighs trembled violently, his abs flexing in sharp, involuntary spasms as the catcher ground his pelvis in tight circles, milking every last drop into Grant’s clenching channel. "MMMRRRFFF—!" The gag muffled nothing; his scream vibrated through the locker room, raw and ragged, his body wrung out but still twitching under the catcher’s rough hands.
The shortstop's silhouette cut through the locker room haze like a switchblade—all lean muscle and sunburnt angles, his cock dangling between his thighs, long enough to brush his knee when he stepped forward. Grant's gagged moan hitched higher—"Nnnghh! MMMRRRFFF—!" as the wiry bastard gripped his hips, calloused fingers digging into the sweat-slicked dimples above his ass. The shortstop's cockhead was already glistening, the tip smearing precum against Grant's twitching rim like a pitcher loading up a spitball. The shortstop's fingers clamped around Grant's balls like a pitcher gripping a rosin bag—tight, deliberate, twisting just enough to make Grant's spine snap into a sharp arch.
"Nnnghh—MMMRRRFFF!" The scream tore against the soaked jockstrap gag, Grant's thighs trembling violently as the shortstop pulled, dragging his ball sack taut while his other hand guided the immense length of his cock toward Grant's gaping hole. The head caught on his rim, already swollen and flushed from abuse, but the shortstop didn't pause—just leaned forward, his sunburnt hips driving forward in one long relentless thrust.
The shortstop's cock speared into Grant with the same ruthless precision as his double-playthrows—long and merciless, stretching Grant’s hole to a fresh, searing brink. "MMMRRRFFF—!" Grant’s scream dissolved into a wet, sputtering choke as the shortstop rutted, his wiry hips flush against Grant’s ass, the wiry trail of his pubes scratching against Grant’s sweat-slicked skin. The shortstop’s breath hitched, his sunburnt fingers digging into Grant’s hips hard enough to leave crescent moons in the tan skin.
"Fuck, you’re ruined", he hissed, rolling his hips in a cruel, grinding circle that made Grant’s thighs jerk uncontrollably. The shortstop’s cock drove deeper than any of the others had—long enough to make Grant’s stomach bulge obscenely with every thrust, his abs flexing in sharp, involuntary spasms as his own cock flopped against his stomach, thick and flushed.
"MMMRRRFFF—!" Grant’s scream dissolved into a wet, sputtering choke as the shortstop’s fingers tightened around his balls, yanking them taut just as his hips snapped forward, burying himself to the base. The pain-pleasure of the pull sent electric jolts up Grant’s spine, his toes curling against the tile as his cock twitched violently, precum smearing across his heaving abs. The shortstop’s cock hit something deep inside Grant—something untouched, electric—and his body convulsed like he’d been struck by a live wire.
"MMMRRRFFF—!" The scream ripped through the jockstrap gag as his cock jerked violently, untouched yet spurting thick ropes of cum across his own chest and abs. His stomach muscles clenched in sharp, rhythmic spasms, each pulse painting another streak of white against his sweat-slicked skin. The shortstop laughed, his hips never stopping their brutal pace, fingers digging into Grant’s hips hard enough to bruise.
"Look at that," he sneered, watching Grant’s cock twitch and dribble against his own abs. "Guess you *like* getting wrecked by a real bat." The shortstop's hips stuttered as he bottomed out one final time, his cock pulsing deep inside Grant's ruined hole. His breath came in ragged gasps against Grant's shoulder blades, his wiry frame trembling with exertion as he emptied himself into Grant's clenching channel.
"Nnnghh—MMMRRRFFF!" Grant's gagged scream dissolved into a wet, hiccupping sob as the shortstop ground his hips in tight circles, milking every last drop into Grant's gaping ass before pulling out with a slick pop, leaving him twitching and dripping onto the bench.
Tyler's shadow loomed over Grant just as the shortstep's cock slid free—broad shoulders blocking the buzzing fluorescents, his thick fingers already digging into Grant's sweat-slicked hips. "Round two, pretty boy," Tyler growled, flipping Grant onto his stomach with one brutal shove, his ass still gaping and dripping cum onto the bench. Grant's scream dissolved into a wet, choked gargled—"MMMRRRFFF!" —as Tyler mounted him from behind, his knees bracketing Grant's trembling thighs, the hot weight of his cock pressing against Grant's ruined hole like a bat tapping home plate.
Tyler's cock slammed into Grant with the force of a fastball cracking against a catcher’s mitt—wet, sharp, relentless. The sound of skin meeting skin echoed off the locker room tiles like a rapid-fire batting drill, Tyler’s hips pistoning forward with brutal precision, his sweat-slicked balls slapping against Grant’s taint with every deep thrust. "MMMRRRFFF—!" Grant’s scream dissolved into a wet, sputtering choke as Tyler’s fingers twisted into his hair, yanking his head back to expose his toned neck. The jockstrap gag was slick with spit now, the fabric swelling against his palate as Tyler’s cock carved him open again and again, the swollen head dragging over his prostate with merciless accuracy.
Tyler’s forearm locked around Grant’s throat like a vise, the sudden pressure cutting off his gagged screams mid-strangle— "MMMRR—!" —as Tyler wrenched him back into a brutal headlock. Grant’s spine arched violently, his sweat-slicked shoulder pressing into Tyler’s teeth before they sank down, hard, into the meat of his deltoid. The pain was white-hot, electric—"NNNGGHH!" —his muffled scream vibrating against the soaked jockstrap as Tyler’s cock pounded into him with renewed fury, the bite only driving him deeper. Tyler’s breath was ragged against Grant’s ear, his teeth still buried in muscle as he growled,
"Fucking. Take. It."
Each word punctuated by a snap of his hips that sent Grant’s vision sparking at the edges.Tyler’s forearm finally loosened from Grant’s throat, leaving the baseball star gasping against the sweat-soaked jockstrap gag— "Hnnngh! MMMRRRFFF!” —his chest heaving as oxygen flooded back into his lungs. But the relief was short-lived. Tyler’s hands immediately clamped down on Grant’s ass, fingers digging into the meat of his cheeks with a possessive grip, kneading the sweat-slicked muscle like dough.
"MMMRRRFFF!" Grant’s scream dissolved into a wet, hiccupping moan as Tyler spread him wider, thumbs pressing into the dimples above his ass, exposing his gaping hole to the humid locker room air. The rough handling sent fresh tremors through Grant’s thighs, his abs flexing involuntarily as Tyler’s cock pulsed inside him, still buried to the hilt.
"MMMPPHHH!" Grant's scream dissolved into a wet, sputtering choke as Tyler's hips snapped forward again, burying himself entirely in one brutal stroke. The jockstrap gag swelled with spit, the damp fabric pressing deeper into his palate with every ragged inhale—"Hnnngh! Nnnghh!" —his throat clenching around the sweat-soaked cotton. Tyler's fingers twisted tighter in his hair, gripping tight for leverage as he pounded Grant.
Tyler’s release came with a roar—his hips jerking erratically as his cock pulsed deep inside Grant’s wrecked hole, flooding him with another warm rush of cum. Grant’s thighs trembled violently, his abs flexing in sharp, involuntary spasms as Tyler emptied into him, his body wrung out but still twitching under Tyler’s rough hands.
