Angel Weis kneels between the two, his fingers slick with lube as one stretches his hole while the other presses his face into the other’s ass, tongue deep. The blond grips the bearded man’s hips, pulling him closer as the tattooed one works his own fingers into the tight ring, fingers glistening with the same sheen. They strip in place, clothes discarded mid-motion, the red couch stained where the first thrusts begin, no hesitation, just the wet sound of skin meeting skin.
