Tommy Hunter kneels on the red couch, his dark hair framing a face that shifts from concentration to pleasure as he sucks his own toes clean, fingers tracing the tight ring of his asshole before he lies back, lips wrapped around his own feet. The indoor light catches the slim lines of his body as he shifts between positions, each movement deliberate, from the first slow pull of his toes into his mouth to the way his fingers press just right against his own hole. No other hands guide him, no one else watches; he does it all himself, from the first bare foot to the final, trembling exhale.
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