Running can be a lonely affair – as Alan Sillitoe detailed in “The Loneliness Of The Long Distance Runner” – but then people who play the recorder don’t have many friends either. Perhaps that explains why Florian Mraz and Harry Vakker seem to hit it off so quickly at the start of this spunk-inducing duo. Then again, it could have something to do with the fact that they’re both top-notch beauties, neither of whom any right-minded fellow would kick out of bed in a hurry. To be fair, it’s Mraz who (perhaps not surprisingly given his previous escapades) gives initial impetus to proceedings, laid out as he is in nothing more than a pair of sexy briefs and throwing come-to-bed eyes at his mate right from the off. What’s more, the lad’s clearly in the mood for a little bit of kink from the pairing – sniffing Vakker’s running-shoes and socks as if he was inhaling poppers. But whilst the athlete isn’t the one who does the initial running – excuse the pun! – he’s not shy at responding to his horny little pal’s advances; and before you know it the two fellows are greedily 69-ing each other over a sofa like a couple of sex-starved cock-fiends. Suffice it to say that it’s not long before Vakker is getting a very different form of exercise courtesy of Mraz’s over-worked fuck-hole – still sporting his fitness-tracker round his waist as he does so – by which time you’ll no doubt be giving your wrist a similarly furious work-out! And the fat-burning, nad-churning antics only conclude when both lads rupture like a couple of volcanoes, the jizz quite literally firing in every direction imaginable!