Neil Stevens grips the wooden beam above him as Dean Monroe’s mouth seals around his cock, his fingers already working the tight hole below. The forest around them hums with unseen life while Stevens’ breath hitches, his thighs flexing against the rough surface as Monroe’s tongue swirls deeper. The air smells of damp earth and sweat as fingers stretch him open, then the slow, relentless thrust of a cock filling him from behind.
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