Tyler Swift’s beard scrapes Luca Zavat’s throat as he grips his hips, fingers digging into the pale, tattooed skin while his tongue drags up the crack of his ass. Luca’s smooth, dark hair hangs forward as he arches back, his hole already slick from Tyler’s relentless rimming before the cock slides home. The couch creaks under their weight, the angle sharp, Tyler’s grip tightens as he bottoms out, his breath ragged against Luca’s neck.
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