Ian Murphy & Shane Frost

Ian Murphy’s tattooed, shaved head leans down as Shane Frost grips the red shorts, pulling them taut over his thick thighs while his fingers work the tight hole. The blond’s mouth seals over Ian’s cock with a wet, hungry suction, his knuckles pressed into the couch as Shane’s tongue traces the rimmed pucker just above. Both men move with the rough, unhurried precision of men who know exactly what they’re doing, no hesitation, just the sharp thrust of Ian’s hips into Shane’s throat, the slick slap of fingers against stretched skin.