The king of XXL fucking
PaulXXL pushed open the hotel room door in the middle of the afternoon. His blue jeans, with nothing underneath, molded a huge bulge that ran low on his thigh. The sweat-soaked gray sports shirt clung to his pecs and marked every muscle.
Cocksucker was waiting, sitting on the edge of the bed in his jogging bottoms and molded T-shirt. As soon as PaulXXL approached, he reached out and palpated the cock at length through the taut fabric, squeezing, caressing the thick, still-hardening form.
With a swift movement, he unzipped the fly and pulled down the jeans. The cock sprang out: long, very thick, veiny, glistening glans. Cocksucker grabbed it at the base and immediately engulfed it up to the balls. His throat contracted around the shaft, abundant saliva running down his chin and balls. Maxime guided the head, fucking the mouth in a deep rhythm, gleaming cock almost fully in and out.
He turned him sharply on the bed, ass up revealing a black jockstrap. The hole, already lubricated, opened pink and ready. Maxime thrust all the way in. A hoarse grunt escaped cocksucker as PaulXXL began pounding him bareback: intense thrusts, dry slaps of skin against skin, cock disappearing entirely with each plunge.
The pace quickened, hips fucking hard, hole stretching around big cock slapping bottom. He went back and forth, alternating between sensual and wild. You could hear those balls fucking against the cocksucker's pussy, dilated to the extreme under the blows of the big cock.
Suddenly PaulXXL withdrew. He positioned himself in front of the offered face, jerking off fast and hard. He exploded in powerful jets: thick sperm baring tongue, cheeks, nose, forehead. White jets ran down his chin and cheeks, Maxime rubbing the still-hard glans on his lips to spread the rest.
With his whole face smeared, cocksucker remained on his knees, while Maxime pulled his jeans up over his still-swollen cock and switched off the camera.
