Myott Hunter stands over Johnny Ford, his tattooed chest pressed against the red blanket as he grips Ford’s hips, fingers already probing the tight asshole before his mouth seals over it. Ford lies sprawled on the bed, muscles flexing as Hunter’s tongue laps at his hole while his own cock throbs untouched, the contrast of dominance and surrender sharp in every touch. The air hums with the wet sound of lips and the slow, deliberate thrust of a cock sinking deep, the bed creaking as Hunter drives into Ford’s body with controlled force.
