Billy Cole kneels with his head between Adam Soulska’s thighs, his tongue tracing the tight ring of his asshole while the taller man grips his own cock, thick and flushed. Soulska stands with his weight shifted forward, one hand braced on Cole’s shoulders as he works a strap-on into his hole, the slow thrusts deep and deliberate. Fingers probe and lips seal around flesh, the air thick with the sound of skin meeting skin and the wet, rhythmic pull of a cock buried to the hilt.
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