Robin Few and Micky Shut

Robin Few kneels behind Micky Shut, his fingers probing the tight asshole while his tongue swipes the slick entrance, bareback, rough, and unprotected. Micky lies flat on his back, gripping the rough bark of a tree as Few’s mouth seals over his hole, tongue lashing deep before his hands grip his own thighs, spreading him wider. The woods swallow their sounds, the air thick with the scent of sweat and the wet slap of skin against skin as Few drives into him, slow and deep, his lean body pressed flush against Micky’s.