Dusty Williams’ smooth, muscular frame bends over Tony Bishop’s bench as his tongue traces the tight ring of his asshole, fingers probing deep while Bishop grips the edge, his cock already slick with anticipation. The blond’s lips seal around the dark-haired man’s shaft, pulling hard as Bishop’s breath hitches, his own fingers circling Dusty’s hole in slow, deliberate strokes. The locker room’s hard surfaces press against their bodies, the air thick with the scent of sweat and desire as one sucks, the other licks, neither stopping until the first wet slap of cum hits Dusty’s throat.
