Bart Cuban and Jon Kael

Bart Cuban’s beard scrapes Jon Kael’s throat as he grips his jaw, fingers digging into the smooth, tan skin of his shoulders while Kael’s mouth works his cock with slow, deliberate strokes. The bed creaks under Cuban’s weight as he pins Kael’s hips down, his own dark hair falling forward to obscure the view of his thick, tattooed arms flexing around the man beneath him. Kael’s fingers trace Cuban’s hole with deliberate precision, his own ass already slick from the rimming that follows, the yellow sheets catching the glint of sweat and oil.