Jp Dubois strips in a locker room, his muscular frame flexing as he peels off the black shorts that still cling to his thighs. The wooden bench creaks under his weight as he leans forward, ass raised, before dropping them entirely to stand bare before the blue and red lockers. His clean-shaven jaw tightens with each deliberate pose, squatting low, hands gripping his knees, then stretching out on the bench with legs splayed wide. Shoes forgotten at his feet, he turns them over, studying the soles as if measuring the weight of what’s left to come.
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