Twisted Passions #07

Guy has the fuck-me-too-tight grip wrapped around my cock so tight, I nearly lose it right then. My elbows lock. Hot sweat rolls down my spine while his palm drags rough over the head with every stroke. His thumb sits dead on the spot under the head, that little kill-switch of nerves, and he works it until my teeth are grinding together. Pre-cum bubbles out wet and sticky; he smears it down the shaft like he's greasing me up for something filthy. Every stroke bottoms out and his knuckles brush my nuts, making the whole sack tighten and pull higher. I can hear the slick, obscene sound of skin on skin every time he jerks me—wet and filthy and way too loud in the quiet room. The head swells purple and shiny, leaking freely. His wrist twists at the top, corkscrewing over that swollen rim until my hips twitch and shove forward without me telling them to. Balls draw up heavy, veins stand out thick under his fingers, everything slick with sweat and spit and precum. He's got me breathing hard, groaning through my teeth like an animal. Feels like he's trying to wring every drop out of me with just that one slick fist, knuckles tapping low, palm twisting firm. My cock throbs angry-red in his hand, head bulging, veins bulging along the shaft, base pulsing. He's got that brutal rhythm dialed in now, fast and relentless, bottoming out each stroke so hard it makes a filthy slap every time his fingers meet my balls. I'm right there, throbbing, leaking, ballsack drawn up tight and ready to blow all over his knuckles if he keeps going like this much longer.