Angel Rock offers living, sweaty proof that a man's best friend is...his hand...while basking in the California sunshine. His compact body is convex in all the right places, covered with barely clipped dark hair, and muscled from collarbone to calves. His bright yellow swim trunks and towel are the perfect complement to his tan. The sunshine triggers lens flares in the dark glass of his Ray Bans and the tiniest pool of perspiration has collected in the hollow of his throat. Biting his lower lip, Angel strokes his cock with SP35, using more strokes than necessary to keep out the UV rays. He cups and squeezes his balls with his free hand, then plays with his foreskin, pulling it over the head of his dick until you can't tell pre-cum from sunscreen. When he grabs his fully engorged cock in both fists, you get a better idea of its size: two hands can't contain it. Dripping sweat and lube, Angel jacks off to beat the band, fucking the air, fingering his hole, and climaxing with bursts of spooge that puddle on his tummy -- all of which brings a wide grin to Lance Luciano, who has been secretly filming him.
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