Tiger Tyson’s T’s jailer!  Whistling, he pokes his nightstick through the bars of a holding pen and finds T. Malone’s needy hole. Tiger lays T. out on an examining table, pulls his red shorts down and probes. “You’re cumming through my penal system,” he promises and pulls an even meatier nightstick out of his pants. Eyes closed and flopping on the table, T. sucks it big and stiff—but Tiger needs azz! Hopping onto the table, he sinks his phenomenal cock between his prisoner’s buns. But entry’s a bitch—T’s practiced booty has more than met its match. “Don’t move!” Tiger roars, like his impaled prisoner could go anywhere. Tiger twists T. into any position he wants and pounds him all over the room. T. has to hang from the rafters.  When Tiger pulls out from T.’s stretched split, he pumps spooge scattershot. A hundred cum bullets riddle T’s rear. Tiger smacks it, pushes T. into a hole in the wall and locks him up.