Bob Steel kneels in the damp earth, his beard rough against Maxence Angel’s throat as he takes him deep, while Angel grips the bark of a tree, his fingers already tracing the tight ring of his ass. The striped shirt rides up on Steel’s chest as he pulls back, tongue glistening, before diving in again, his own cock straining against the fabric, ignored for now. Angel’s lean body arches into the touch, his hole already wet with anticipation as Steel’s fingers work him open, the woods swallowing their sounds.
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