Antony Carter kneels between the two, his fingers tracing the slick heat of a hole still glistening from deep thrusts while the other braces himself on the couch’s armrest, his dark hair falling forward as he grips the cushions. The patterned fabric of the couch frames their bodies, one sprawled naked, the other still half-dressed, their mouths locked in a slow, open kiss that leaves a trail of spit down the bearded man’s chest. Fingers dig into warm skin, pulling him closer as Antony’s tongue flicks against the tight ring of muscle before his own cock twitches, already hard from watching.
