Jack Ford grips Tom Delas’s hips hard as he pins him to the bench, his fingers digging into the tight, flexing ass while Tom moans low into the kiss, tongue deep and desperate. The red shirt rides up, exposing smooth skin as Ford’s mouth trails down the neck, then his teeth graze the shoulder before he pulls back just enough to watch Tom’s breath hitch, only to shove his face between those thighs, licking the slick hole with rough, hungry strokes. Fingers probe first, then Ford’s cock takes over, slamming home with a wet thud as Tom arches, gripping the bench’s rough wood to brace himself.
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