David West’s dark hair falls over his smooth, muscular chest as he grips his cock, fingers slick with pre-cum, while Trevor Knight watches from the couch beside him, one hand resting on his own thigh. The couch creaks under their weight, the only sound the wet slap of skin against flesh as they stroke themselves in slow, deliberate strokes. Neither looks away, their focus locked on the act, no words, no hesitation, just the motion of their hands.
By Suite703
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