Tristan Jaxx grips Argos Santini’s hips, his beard rough against the other man’s hairy chest as he drives deep into his ass, the couch cushions digging into their backs. Santini moans around Tristan’s cock, his fingers tangled in the dark hair at his nape while his other hand works his own hole, slick with oil. The bearded man’s grip tightens as he pulls back, only to slam forward again, the sound of flesh meeting flesh sharp and unfiltered. Santini’s throat works around Tristan’s cock, his breath ragged, as the hairy, muscular bodies move in a rhythm that leaves no doubt, this is, unapologetic.
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