Leandro Avila’s calloused hand fists Aurelio Maximo’s hair, wrenching his head back as Daddy Maluma’s spit-slicked fingers pry open his hole. “Mírame, puta,” Leandro snarls, slapping his uncut, heavy cock across Aurelio’s lips. Daddy Maluma doesn’t wait—he spears two thick digits into Aurelio’s entrance, twisting until the bottom’s choked cry morphs into a whimper.
Their coordination is ruthless. Leandro rams his shaft down Aurelio’s throat, hips pistoning as saliva drips onto the sheets. Daddy Maluta lubes his cock with a crude squeeze of the bottle, then lines up against Aurelio’s clenching hole. One thrust—balls-deep—and Aurelio’s scream is muffled by Leandro’s relentless fucking.
But Leandro’s jealous. He tears Aurelio off his dick, flipping him onto his knees, and mounts the already-stretched ass alongside Daddy Maluma. “Take it all, maricón,” he grits, forcing his girth alongside Maluma’s. The stretch burns—Aurelio’s fingers claw the headboard as both tops grind deeper, their cocks grinding viciously against each other inside him.
Daddy Maluma’s thumb circles Aurelio’s trembling rim, stretching it wider around their shafts. “Así… fuck him open,” he grunts, slapping Leandro’s ass to drive him harder. Sweat, spit, and pre-cum slick the bed as their rhythms collide, Aurelio’s prostate battered from both angles.
They erupt together—Leandro’s load shooting thick down Aurelio’s throat while Daddy Maluma pumps his seed deep into the ruined hole. Withdrawing slowly, they admire their work: Aurelio’s gaping entrance dripping with cum, his stomach distended, voice shredded. Leandro smirks, scooping a stray glob off the sheets and smearing it over Aurelio’s slack tongue. “Not a drop wasted.”
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