JJ Knight’s tattooed, muscular frame pins Michael Boston beneath him, his dark hair framing a face locked in sharp focus as he drives deep with slow, deliberate thrusts. Boston lies sprawled on the couch, his fingers tangled in Knight’s hair while his own grip tightens around the thick cock being worked by mouth. The air hums with the wet slap of skin, the rhythmic pull of suction, and the way Boston’s ass clenches around Knight’s hips as he’s taken hard.
