Bruce Querelle’s broad chest presses into Niall Morris’s back as he grips his hips, fingers already slick with lube tracing the tight ring before his tongue finds it. Morris lies flat on his stomach, ass raised, while Querelle kneels behind him, his thick cock already wet from the slow, deliberate suck of his hole. The hairy chest of the larger man looms over him, his grip rough as he guides himself inside, stretching Morris open with each deep thrust.
