Flint Spear’s tattooed arm grips Justice Knight’s waist as he drives into him from behind, the dark swim trunks barely concealing the thrusts. Justice Knight turns his head, lips locked with Flint’s while his fingers dig into the couch, his own hole slick with Flint’s tongue before the cock takes its place. The two move in sync, one pulling, one pushing, until the first wet spurt marks the couch between them.
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