Is there sex in heaven?

There sure as fuck is in Dick Wadd’s HOG HEAVEN, the new porn classic that redefines the concept of final rewards. Eight sleazy sex gods go to their glory in a relentless raunchfest of epic proportions.

In HOG HEAVEN, every guy exhibits epic proportions, whether it be Scott Irish’s endless asslicking tongue, Dean Cooper’s determined devotion to piss, Erik Hunter’s powerful fuck thrust, hairy Greg McCord’s smelly pits and sewer mouth, Beau Strom’s bulging biceps, silver-haired Jake Marshall’s fuck concentration, Guns’ bottomless bottom or Damien’s mighty fisting arm.

What can we expect on the other side, according to Dick Wadd, if we’ve all been bad boys in our sex lives? Dick for days, a heavenly host of hard-ons for holy worship, and frenzied non-stop fucking for all eternity. And never-ending blat, continual free-flowing fountains of manwater directed at you, all over your sex-starved bodies, in your suppliant mouths, down your thirsty throats and up your absorbent assholes. For the horny fuckers in HOG HEAVEN, blat is the passport to fulfilling mansex, and they’d no more think of wasting it somewhere other than on each other than they would think of wasting their hard cocks on a female. These are men’s men, their pricks reserved for the holiest of holys, the soaking sanctification of manflesh, their virile nourishing seed reserved for masculine tongues and throats and tight masculine buttholes.

HOG HEAVEN is a temple of manworship, populated by divine deviates, archangels of assfucking, priests of blat; a synod of sinning saints, brothers in barebacking, a federation of fornicators, a congregation of cum-shooting cock worshippers, popes of asspopping, gods of cock.