Bishop Angus fucks Mark Winters

Bishop Angus grips Mark Winters’ hips as he slams into him from behind, the rope biting into his shoulders while the third man watches, bearded and stocky, his fingers tracing slow circles over Winters’ bald scalp. The younger one, dark-haired, clean-shaven, straddles the makeshift hammock, his hole already slick from the older man’s tongue, his cock throbbing as Angus pounds him. No words, just the wet slap of flesh and the groan of a man stretched open for them both.