Antony Carter stretches across the couch, his light hair falling as he arches his back to expose the black underwear barely clinging to his hips, then pushes them down with a slow, deliberate hand. His slim body twists onto his stomach, legs splayed wide as he works his fingers through his own tight hole, fingers slick with precome before he flips onto his back and drives them deep. The cushions bite into his shoulders as he raises his knees, the framed cityscape behind him forgotten, his breath coming sharp and uneven as he pumps himself open.
