Jim Durden’s beard scrapes against Freddy McQueen’s jaw as he grips his neck, pulling him in for a rough, open-mouthed kiss that leaves his lips swollen. Freddy’s tongue pushes past Durden’s teeth, his fingers tangling in the dark hair at the nape of his neck while he guides Durden’s head down to his cock. The grass beneath them is damp, the close-up framing their ragged breaths and the way Durden’s grip tightens around Freddy’s shaft as he starts to suck.
