Boris Lang’s tattooed, muscular frame presses against the car’s hood while Dom Ully kneels beside him, his dark hair falling over his face as he grips Boris’s thick cock in his fist. The grass beneath them is damp, the air heavy with the sound of Boris’s rough breaths as Dom strokes him faster, his grip tightening around the shaft. Their hands move in sync, one holding, the other guiding, as Boris’s hips jerk forward with every pull.
