Claude Sorel’s thick fingers stretch Andre Boleyn’s hole open while his mouth seals around the other’s cock, the dark hair of both men slick with spit and sweat. Andre lies flat, his muscular body pinned by Sorel’s weight as he takes deep, rough pulls on the shaft, his own fingers working the other’s asshole with slow, deliberate pressure. Pillows brace Andre’s hips just high enough for Sorel to drive in deep, the thrusts sharp and unrelenting as he holds Andre’s waist down.
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