Tommy Curtis pins Aaron Aurora over a desk, his fingers probing deep while the blond’s breath hitches against the cold metal. The bearded one kneels behind, tongue swirling the tight ring before gripping the ass and driving in slow, deliberate strokes that make Aaron’s grip on the edge tighten. No clothes remain by the end, just the slick sounds of flesh and the way Aaron’s back arches when Tommy finally bottoms out, his own hands clutching the desk as if he might fall.
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