Jacob King Bottoms For Jake Nicola At Dadcreep
Jacob King’s trembling lips graze Jake Nicola’s thick meat-monster, veins pulsing against his tongue like a live wire as he inhales musk-salt ambrosia. “Fuck… it’s huge,” he rasps, jaw unhinging to swallow inches of steel-flesh, gag reflex sparking tears. Jake’s smirk burns hotter than the precum dripping down Jacob’s throat—rookie.
The flip? Brutal. Jake’s tongue assaults Jacob’s virgin pucker, spit-slick and relentless, until the twink’s hips buck backward, begging for invasion. No prep, no patience—just Jake’s dick-battering ram spearing Jacob’s clenched hole in one gut-punch thrust. “Scream,” Jake commands, fingers bruising Jacob’s hips as the bedframe screams in harmony with Jacob’s shredded ass.
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Jacob’s betrayal boner strains—leaking, pathetic—as painblur morphs into filth-frenzy. Jake’s balls slap his trembling cheeks, each snap of hips carving Jacob’s insides into a jizm-lube cocktail. “Take it, princess,” Jake growls, seizing Jacob’s hair to yank his spine into a barbed curve.
Jacob’s crotch tsunami erupts untouched, painting the sheets as Jake’s colon conquest drills deeper, unloading semen napalm into his virgin hole. Post-nut clarity? None. Just Jake’s cum-leaking dick sliding out as Jacob whimpers, addicted.
