Jacob Peterson grips Josh Moore’s hips as he drives deep, the slick sound of lube mixing with the wet slap of skin against skin. Moore’s bearded jaw is buried between Peterson’s thighs, his tongue tracing the tight ring before Peterson flips him onto his back, fingers already working the hole open. The tattoos on Peterson’s chest rise and fall with his breath as Moore takes him bareback, the thrusts rough and unfiltered.
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