Titus Snow grips a rifle while Connor Rex kneels, his tongue tracing the edge of Titus’s asshole before slipping inside, then he’s gripping the thick cock that follows, swallowing deep as Titus’s fingers dig into his shoulders. The camouflage vest rides up, baring smooth, tattooed skin, while his mouth works the shaft with rough, hungry strokes, the rifle forgotten as Connor’s fingers tease the tight ring again.
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