Wesley Woods grips his cock hard, his dark hair catching the sun as he strokes fast under the swaying palms, the muscles in his arms flexing with every rough pull. Steven Lee stands nearby, bearded and broad-shouldered, watching with a steady gaze as Wesley’s hand moves faster, his own cock already slick with precome. The air hums with the sound of skin against flesh, the only movement the rhythmic jerk of Wesley’s fist and the slow, deliberate way Steven leans in just close enough to taste the salt on his lips.
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