Reece Bentley’s hands knead Milo Taylor’s tight, slicked-back ass with slow, deliberate pressure, the oil glistening as he works the muscles from hips to shoulders. Milo lies spread-eagled, his smooth, pale skin flushed under the firm strokes, while Bentley’s fingers dig into his neck, then trace down his spine with a grip that never lets go. The table creaks as they shift positions, one bent over the edge, the other straddling the edge, oil dripping between them, each movement turning the massage into something deeper.
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