Arthur Gordon stands shirtless under a spray of cold water, the hose’s jet caressing his muscular frame as he leans back against the garden’s lush greenery, his dark hair slicking back with each pulse. The sleeveless green shirt, number 10 emblazoned on the back, clings to his chest while he shifts his weight, water glistening over his skin as he relishes the pressure against his body. Seated on a bench or chair, he lets the hose’s rhythm dictate his movements, the white flowers in the background framing the way the water traces his abs and thighs.
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