Ace Carponi kneels in the dirt, his dark hair damp against his neck as he adjusts the cloth wrapped tight around his cock, hard, thick, and already glistening with precome. The wall behind him is cracked, the trees above casting uneven shadows over his bare, muscular chest as he works his grip, fingers rough against the fabric. The way he holds himself, the tension in his shoulders, makes it clear he’s not just preparing, he’s counting down.
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