Boris Lang’s thick arms coil around James Kingston’s waist as he drags his mouth down the blond’s neck, fingers already working the tight hole slick with lube. The red strap around Boris’s hips bites into his skin while Kingston kneels, tongue tracing the rim of his ass before his lips seal around the head of his cock. The pool’s edge looms behind them, the shower spray hissing as Boris grips Kingston’s hips, driving deep with slow, deliberate strokes. His own hand works his shaft, veins bulging as Kingston’s fingers dig into his thighs, the air thick with the sound of wet flesh and the rhythmic slap of skin.
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