Felix Harris fucks Antu Burghos

Felix Harris grips Antu Burghos’s hips, his dark hair damp from sweat as he pins him to the bench, the sports ball still clutched between them. Antu’s smooth, athletic body bends forward, his asshole already slicked as Felix lines up, the locker room’s hard surfaces pressing into their skin. They move fast, no foreplay, just the rough thrust of Felix’s cock driving deep, fingers still working the tight ring while Antu’s breath comes in sharp gasps. The tape measure lies forgotten on the floor as Felix’s grip tightens, each stroke pulling a choked sound from Antu’s throat.