The ritual begins the same way every time — the masters sit in their chairs wearing nothing but jockstraps, their thick cocks slowly hardening behind the stretched fabric. The boys enter the room on their knees, drawn like magnets to the growing bulges before them. Each boy takes his position between a master’s spread legs, pressing his face against the warm, musky cotton.
Mouths nuzzle against straining jockstraps, tongues tracing the outlines of thickening shafts through the fabric. The boys can feel the cocks growing harder against their lips, pulsing with each heartbeat, the cotton growing damp with pre-cum. The masters rest their hands on the boys’ heads, guiding them, pressing their faces deeper into their crotches while their cocks strain to escape the confining straps.
One by one, the jockstraps come down and the boys are rewarded with what they’ve been craving — thick, hard, raw cocks that spring free and slap against their eager faces. The sucking begins in earnest, each boy worshipping his master’s cock with devoted intensity while the other boys watch and wait. Then the masters stand, bend their boys over, and enter them from behind — all at once, a symphony of moans filling the room as tight holes stretch around raw shafts. The boys’ own cocks press hard against their jockstraps as they’re fucked in unison, the room filling with the sounds of skin meeting skin and boys earning their keep with every thrust.
