Billy Santoro’s beard brushes Lawrence Portland’s chest as he kneels between his thighs, fingers already working the tight hole while Portland grips the sheets, his cock thick and flushed. Santoro takes the head in his mouth hard, tongue pressing deep as Portland’s other hand wraps around his own shaft, stroking fast with a grip that makes his knuckles whiten. The couch creaks under their weight, but the only sound is the wet slap of lips and the rough exhale of men who don’t need words to know what comes next.
