Cody Cummings sits in an armchair, his dark hair framing a muscular frame covered in tattoos, fingers tracing slow circles over his cock as he leans back with legs spread wide. The armchair holds him relaxed, one arm stretched out, the other working his shaft with deliberate strokes while his body shifts between poses, leaning forward, standing with a hand resting on the armrest, legs parting without hesitation. The only sound is the wet, rhythmic slap of skin against flesh, his focus locked on the motion until the last thread of clothing falls away.
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