Johny Cruz wants to be all serious and studious; Shane Barret, in total contrast, just wants to play and have fun. So, who do you think comes out on top? Let’s put it this way, Cruz’s resistance to his buddy’s persuasions doesn’t ever really amount to a great deal at all. Indeed, the fellow is tearing away at Barret’s garish underwear in under two minutes, casting his pen and paper to one side in order to give all his attention to the thick, meaty, uncut dick that he very clearly knows is stuffed inside his mate’s pants. Not that Barret seems in any way less inclined to feast on salami given half the opportunity – particularly if his fine performance on Cruz’s knob shortly afterwards is anything to go by. But it’s not exactly a surprise to realise that it’s Cruz who’s going to be playing bottom to Barret’s rampant buttpicker; and, having taken a chance to tease Barret’s hole with an enthusiastic rimming, the lad is soon laid out prostrate over the writing-desk taking every butt-stretching inch that the top can thrust in his direction! Cue a tremendous, ball-busting, sac-rupturing escapade that’ll almost certainly have you reaching for the tissues long before Cruz (quite literally) gets the jizz banged out of him, having ridden Barret’s love-handle like the veritable pro we all know (and love) him to be. But it’s the sight of Barret white-washing Cruz’s tongue and him spraying cream all over the lad’s cute, young face that warrants keenest attention – the young bottom lapping up every last drop as if his next ten porn-placements existence depended on it. In three words – hot, hot, hot!