Perry and Skippy Baxter stand over the bed, the tattooed one gripping Skippy’s chest while his mouth seals over the other’s neck, fingers already working the damp fabric of his underwear. Skippy’s muscular frame bends as Perry’s hands slide inside, then the shirtless man flips him onto his back, pulling the underwear down to expose the tight hole before driving into him with rough, deep thrusts. The bed creaks under their weight as they move, one’s tattooed arms braced above him, the other’s breath ragged against his skin.
