Miko Proctor stands in the woods, his blond hair catching the dim light as he leans against a tree, hands gripping his hips like he’s holding back something. The night air barely hides the way his fingers brush his groin, his chest rising with each breath as if he’s already halfway there. A close-up locks onto his hand, thumb pressing just right, while the forest behind him stays silent, just foliage and the quiet certainty of what’s about to happen.
By Fantastic Foreskin
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