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Two granite slabs of muscle separate to reveal the prize: a tight, pink hole that’s about to receive the tongue-fucking of its life. The rimmer buries his face between those thick cheeks with missionary zeal, his tongue working in circles, probing deep, flattening and stiffening in alternating patterns designed to drive the muscle stud absolutely insane. The bottom’s powerful glutes involuntarily flex and clench around his partner’s face — nature’s headlock that only makes the rimmer go harder. Thick thighs tremble as the tongue finds nerve endings the stud didn’t know existed. The wet, obscene sounds of deep rimming fill the room while the muscle bottom grips the sheets and surrenders to oral worship at its filthiest.
