Buddy Davis grips Logan Holmes’ hips as he kneels behind him, fingers working his hole while the other man stands with his cock in hand, stroking hard against the couch. Logan arches into the touch, his mouth locked on Buddy’s as one hand pulls at his own length, the other digging into the cushions. Buddy’s grip tightens on his own shaft, his breath ragged against Logan’s neck, both of them lost in the rhythm of fingers, lips, and the slow drag of skin.
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