Torsten Ullman stands behind Jerome Exupery, gripping his hips as he drives deep with slow, deliberate thrusts while the other leans forward over the sink, his fingers tracing wet lines along the back of his thighs. His mouth seals over Jerome’s neck, teeth grazing the pulse point as Torsten’s cock slides in and out with a wet, rhythmic sound. Jerome’s head tilts back, lips parted as Torsten’s tongue dips into his mouth, fingers slipping inside him with practiced precision. The bathroom mirror reflects only the blur of skin and motion, the only sound the hitch of breath and the slap of flesh.
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