Nash Randoms grips Josh Cannon’s shoulders, his tattooed arm flexing as he pins him down for a rough handshake that turns into a sloppy, open-mouthed kiss. Cannon’s muscular frame bends over the carpet, his asshole stretched by Nash’s thick fingers before his tongue swipes through the tight ring, then his cock, hard, veined, and already slick, slams into him from behind. The sandy ground fades as Nash drives deeper, his grip bruising, his thrusts relentless, each stroke pulling a choked groan from Cannon’s throat.
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