J T Rossa grips Shane Frost’s hips as he tongues his throat, fingers already working the tight hole while Frost’s head drops back, breath ragged. The red-shirted one moans around Rossa’s cock, gripping the base hard as his own fingers stretch Frost open. Both are slick with need, muscles taut under the sheets as Rossa’s grip tightens, forcing Frost’s ass higher for the next thrust.
