Dillon Rossi grips Jake Bass’s hips, his tattooed arms flexing as he drives deep into the trembling hole, the rough bark of the trees framing their sweat-slicked bodies. Jake’s dark hair falls forward as Rossi’s weight pins him down, his own inked forearms straining against the earth. The air smells of pine and skin, their breath ragged as the first thick pulses of cum fill him.
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