Dan Dirk’s fist stretches Nord See’s hole open while Liam Reed’s fingers probe deep, the slick sound of lube mixing with the rough rasp of their breath. Jack Stuart kneels behind Brett Malcolms, his mouth locked around the other man’s cock as the tattooed arms grip and pull, fingers tracing wet lines against stretched skin. The close-up shows only the glistening hole and the thick, lubed fingers pushing inside, no hesitation, no softness, just the force of it.
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