Tristan Hunter’s tattooed, muscular frame pins Max Konnor down on a poolside lounge, his clean-shaven jaw locked over the other’s throat while fingers probe deep. Max’s darker hair glistens with sweat as he grips Tristan’s cock, his own hole already slick from Tristan’s tongue tracing slow circles before diving in. The pool’s edge hums with the weight of their bodies, the air thick with the sound of wet lips and the rhythmic drag of fingers against skin.
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