Andrew Kitt and Carl Ross

Carl Ross grips Andrew Kitt’s hips hard as he drives into his asshole, the dark hair of both men slick with sweat and spit, while Kitt’s fingers dig into the couch cushion beneath him. Ross’s mouth seals over Kitt’s hole, tongue lashing deep as his cock hammers forward, the sounds of wet flesh and breath mixing with the sharp gasp of each thrust. Hands grip, pull, and guide, Ross’s forearm bracing Kitt’s back, Kitt’s own fingers clutching Ross’s thighs, before the first hot rush spills down Ross’s belly.