The bearded, tattooed man with dark hair kneels in the steamy locker room, his fingers probing the tight asshole of the bald, muscular one while the third, clean-shaven, broad-shouldered in red shorts, presses his lips against the first’s neck. Hands grip, tongues trace, and the air thickens with the scent of sweat and soap as one slides a slicked finger deep, the other’s breath hot against the exposed skin. The close-ups lock in on the flex of muscle, the glistening hole, the rough calluses of their palms.
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