Mitch Vaughn pins Parker Perry against the desk, his tattooed arms flexing as he grips the man’s hips while Parker’s brown hair falls forward over his face. The chair scrapes back as Vaughn flips him onto his stomach, fingers already working Parker’s hole before the first thrust drives him into the desk’s cold surface. Sucking and rimming follow the fucking, each act sharp and unfiltered, the office suit and tie long gone by the time the chair creaks under their weight.
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