Snauwflake and Esteban’s Grabbys tryst begins with a Grindr ping and ends in a sweat-slicked war of attrition. The moment the apartment door slams shut, Snauwflake—the alpha with a razor-sharp gaze—rips Esteban’s shirt off, shoving him onto the bed like a ragdoll. Their kiss is a clash of teeth and tongues, a prelude to the chaos. Esteban’s submissiveness is a ruse; his hands claw at Snauwflake’s waist, dragging him closer, hungry for the cock that’s already straining against track pants.
The prep is brutal: Snauwflake’s fingers force Esteban’s hole wide, greased with spit and desperation. Esteban’s throat gags on Snauwflake’s shaft moments later, drool pooling on the sheets as his nose presses into coarse pubes. Positions rotate like a violent carousel—doggy, missionary, sideways piledriver—the bed creaking under their ferocity. Snauwflake’s cock drills Esteban’s ass raw, stretching it into a gaping, glistening maw that swallows every inch.
Climax erupts like a monsoon. Snauwflake’s roar echoes as cum floods Esteban’s guts, his hips pistoning through the creampie. Esteban retaliates, blasting thick streaks across Snauwflake’s abs, their sweat and jizz mixing into a sticky manifesto of debauchery. The aftermath is a tableau of ruin: cum-soaked sheets, trembling limbs, and two twinks gasping in the wreckage of their own hunger. This wasn’t love. It was conquest.
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