Inked, cropped, buff and hung, his name may be Jacob Slader but after seeing the size of the bulge in his shorts, Jacob’s Ladder is more like it, as something this big needs to be climbed. Grasping what looks like a lead pipe lying across his thigh, it takes both hands just to explore all of that territory. He peels off his wifebeater, giving a lick to his own busy armpit, before running his hand over that smooth, tatted, sculpted chest, then digging deep inside, opening the zipper to get better access to that prized pole. Like a white obelisk in the skyline, Jason hauls out that pink, thick tower, slapping into his hand with such force, it echoes across the room.
