Riley Tess dominates the locker room, his broad chest and tattooed arms flexing as he stretches across the bench, gripping the edge with one hand while the other hooks behind his head. The blue cap sits low on his forehead as he leans forward, legs splayed wide, the bench’s cold metal pressing into his back. His hairy arms strain with each movement, muscles rippling as he shifts between sitting, lying, and raising his legs high, every position a deliberate display of strength and control. The lockers stand silent witnesses to his, unfiltered power.
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