Trent Locke’s beard scrapes against Tim Kelly’s bare chest as he grips his hips, fingers working the tight hole while Kelly moans into his mouth, the yellow strap around his waist cutting into his skin. The bearded man’s grip is rough, his knuckles bruising as he pulls Kelly closer, tongue deep in his throat while his other hand slides between his thighs. Kelly arches into the touch, his hole already slick with anticipation, the outdoor seating’s rough metal frame forgotten as Trent’s fingers stretch him open.
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