Diego Silva Pounds Mateo Zagal

Diego Silva’s mitt slams the dirt after Mateo Zagal’s grand slam, the smack of leather drowned by the dugout’s groans. Mateo smirks, his slide home grinding leather-clad crotch against Diego’s cup. “Hell of a pillow,” he purrs. Post-loss, Diego’s shoving his fist down his pants in the locker room when Mateo kicks open the door. No words—Mateo licks pre-cum off Diego’s zipper before deepthroating him raw. Bent over a Honda Civic, cleats slipping on gravel, Mateo takes Diego’s battering ram dick, the smack-smack echoing past empty bleachers. Diego nuts down Mateo’s throat, then snatches his jersey. “Laundry duty. Smells like my dick now.”