Aaron, George, Jesse & John

John Parker and Aaron Aurora kneel over Jesse Jenkins’ spread legs, their clean-shaven chins pressed to his tight, tattooed asshole as George Basten leans back, fingers already buried inside, stretching him open. The cold metal of a medical speculum glints between them, held steady by Parker’s grip while Aurora licks a slow, deliberate path up the crack, his tongue thick with saliva. Basten’s lean frame shifts, adjusting the angle as Jenkins arches his back, the sound of wet suction filling the room. Three sets of hands work in unison, one pulling, one probing, one devouring, until the first deep thrust of a tongue drives him forward, gasping.