Guys In Sweatpants: Isaac Pounds Toby

Toby, probably the hungriest bottom on the planet, is back to Guys In Sweatpants, this time paired with Isaac, a very talented top. Isaac’s uncut “boyfriend dick” is a meat altar, and Toby’s here to worship—nose buried in precum, lips greedy, tongue licking every ridge like it’s a holy text. Isaac’s cockhead glistens, veins thick as phone cords, and Toby’s not just licking—he’s devouring, moaning like a pornographic prayer, hips grinding the floor to chase friction he’s not allowed to have.

Isaac grabs Toby’s jaw, forces his face sideways, and rams his cock down his throat—Toby’s eyes roll back, gag reflex reassigned, but he loves it. He sucks like a Hoover, cock stretching his mouth, while Isaac’s other hand drags Toby’s hole into view—shaved, tight, and twitching like a bug zapper. Isaac doesn’t ask—he unbuckles, spits on his shaft, and impales Toby like a meat skewer.

Toby’s legs spike upward, ass screaming with every thrust, but he’s grinning, eyes locked on Isaac’s sweat-dripping face like he’s watching a miracle in slow motion. Isaac’s not gentle—he’s demolition, cock punching through barriers, balls slapping Toby’s spine like a human metronome. Toby’s hole? Gaping, slick with spit and desperation, but Isaac’s not done.

They drag themselves to the shower, Toby’s body limp as a ragdoll, Isaac’s cock still buried in his ass. Water scalds, steam thickens, and Toby’s still moaning, still clenching around that meat like a cum vice. Isaac pounds him sideways, shower tiles slippery with sweat, Toby’s face dripping—not just water, but precum, spit, and surrender.

Then—explosion. Isaac’s grip clamps on Toby’s hips, cock jerking like a live wire before unloading deep in his guts. Toby’s still smiling, still milking him dry, as the cumshot drowns the tiles. Isaac pulls out, and Toby’s hole gurgles like a toilet after a storm.

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