Harris Hilton’s beard presses into Billy Cotton’s throat as he chokes on his cock, the blond’s fingers already slick with lube working his hole open while the other man’s tattoos ripple with every thrust. Cotton lies spread-eagled, his smooth, muscular body stretched taut as Hilton’s grip tightens around his waist, fingers still probing deep before the first hard, wet slide. The air hums with the wet sound of lips sealing around flesh and the slow, deliberate pull of a tongue tracing skin.
