Born behind bars, raised on radio static, and still stuck in teenage limbo at fifty. The narrator launches into how Judas got shackled in chains—chest-down on a table, wrists bound in leather cuffs, cock trapped and useless against cold wood. Roger grabs his hips, spreads him, and spits on his hole, grinding dry just to watch the monster's muscles flinch. Then lube, sudden, cold as ice and shoved in deep, two thick fingers twisting until every twitch says 'ready or not.' Roger angles hard, shoves in, and starts pounding like the world's running out of time. Judas grunts through a gag that tastes like sweat and leather; each thrust jolts his hips forward, drags a broken moan, leaves the table shaking. Roger leans over his back, growls filthy shit in his ear—'take it, freak, feel that dick splitting you open?'—and hammers faster until the slap of skin drowns out the protests.
Born behind bars, raised on radio static, and still stuck in teenage limbo at fifty. The narrator launches into how Judas got shackled in chains—chest-down on a table, wrists bound in leather cuffs, cock trapped and useless against cold wood. Roger grabs his hips, spreads him, and spits on his hole, grinding dry just to watch the monster's muscles flinch. Then lube, sudden, cold as ice and shoved in deep, two thick fingers twisting until every twitch says 'ready or not.' Roger angles hard, shoves in, and starts pounding like the world's running out of time. Judas grunts through a gag that tastes like sweat and leather; each thrust jolts his hips forward, drags a broken moan, leaves the table shaking. Roger leans over his back, growls filthy shit in his ear—'take it, freak, feel that dick splitting you open?'—and hammers faster until the slap of skin drowns out the protests.