Dillon Diaz grips Avery Jones’ hips hard as he pins him to the counter, his dark hair falling forward over the smooth, muscular back while Avery’s light-framed glasses slip down his nose. The yellow tank top rides up just enough to show the stretch of his ass as Dillon lines himself up, fingers digging into the slim waist. Their mouths crash together, teeth clashing, before the first rough thrust drives them both forward.
More galleries
