Bobby Bull stands shirtless against the wall, his tattoos crawling up his arms and chest, while his jacket slumps over one shoulder. He grips his cock hard, the veins bulging as he strokes himself slow, his bald head leaning back against the rough surface. On the bed, he lies sprawled on his side, fingers working him open-mouthed, the weight of his muscles pressing into the sheets. His hand moves sure and heavy, every pull a deliberate thrust toward the finish.
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