Adam Soulska grips Scott Dermitt’s hips as he kneels in the woods, his dark hair framing a face locked in focus while his fingers slide deep into the other’s hole. The air smells of damp earth as Soulska’s mouth seals around Dermitt’s cock, teeth grazing the thick shaft before pulling back to lick the precome glistening at the tip. Dermitt arches into the touch, his own hands gripping Soulska’s shoulders as fingers curl inside him, rough and deliberate. The close-up of their faces, one bearded, one smooth-skinned, shows the intensity of the grip, the way Dermitt’s breath hitches when Soulska’s tongue flicks the slit.
