Jordan knew he was close. He could feel a tingling in his spine and his balls starting to tighten. He tried to hold off. Kent was supposed to c*m first. That was how the director wanted it to come-off. Jordan slowed his thrusts, paused between them, closed his eyes, and tried to think of anything but shooting his load—food…his unpaid bills…his cranky grandmother.
At that moment, Kent moaned, “f**k! You’re gonna make me c*m!”
Relieved he didn’t have to hold off any longer, Jordan opened his eyes and looked down lovingly at Kent, who, with legs spread wide and impaled on Jordan’s c**k, was spewing ropes of creamy, white c*m all over himself.
Jordan pulled out, tore off the rubber, tossed it aside, and stroked. It took only seconds before he, too, was emptying his own load of spunk onto Ke
