Paul Cassidy’s beard scrapes Jeroen Mondrian’s throat as he grips his jaw, fingers already working the tight ring of his ass while the blond’s cock throbs against his palm. The bed creaks under their weight as Cassidy’s tongue drags up Mondrian’s spine, his own cock propped between them, slick with spit and need. Mondrian arches back, ass clenched around Cassidy’s probing fingers, his hole already glistening as the first thick thrust splits him open.
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