Allen King’s beard scrapes Taylor Reign’s chest as he kneels between his legs, fingers digging into the smooth, dark hair while Reign arches against the rough wood of the fence. The woods swallow their moans, thick branches framing the way King’s tongue traces a wet path down Reign’s sternum before his mouth closes over a nipple, teeth grazing just hard enough to make him gasp. Reign’s hands grip the fence, knuckles white, as King’s fingers slide lower, teasing the tight hole before pressing inside. The air smells of damp earth and sweat as Reign’s hips twitch, the fence creaking under his weight.
More galleries
