Lucas Bouvier grips the rim while Dylan Hart leans in, their mouths locked mid-dribble, sweat glistening on smooth, lean skin as the ball bounces off the court. Afterward, Dylan kneels behind him, tongue tracing the tight crack of his asshole before two fingers stretch him open, the red towel discarded near the hoop. When Bouvier turns, they flip into sixty-nine, lips and hands working in unhurried rhythm until Bouvier flips him onto his stomach, no prep, just the blunt head of his cock splitting Dylan’s hole wide open.
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