Jake Morgan dominates Clay Towers on his knees, his beard pressed into the other’s chest as he grips the strap wrapped tight around his hips. The shaved head leans back, lips parted for the deep thrusts that split them open, while fingers dig into the hairy chest, tracing the ridges of muscle before slipping lower. The air fills with the wet sounds of sucking and the rough rasp of rimming, the strap cutting into Clay’s waist as Jake takes him hard from behind.
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