Helmut Huxley and Kevin Warhol bend Jerome Exupery over the pool table, his slim frame stretched tight as the blond grips his hips and drives deep with slow, deliberate thrusts. The dark-haired one watches from the grass, his muscular chest rising with each hard pump, while Exupery’s fingers dig into the felt, his breath ragged. The room’s wooden walls blur behind them as the first wet slap of flesh meets skin echoes across the green.
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