Cole Blue grips Ian Levine’s hips, his dark hair falling over his cap as he pins him against the trees, the blue neckerchief wrapped tight around his wrist. Ian bends low, his lean body angled just right for Cole’s tongue to press deep into his asshole, fingers working in tandem while the strap digs into his skin. The woods swallow their sounds as Cole adjusts his grip, pulling Ian’s weight forward for another slow, deliberate thrust of his mouth.
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