Greg Centuri’s tattooed neck glistens as he grips Toufik Mwaka’s hips, fingers probing deep while his mouth seals over the other’s cock, the blindfolded man’s breath ragged against his shoulder. Toufik’s muscular frame arches as Greg’s tongue traces his hole, then slips inside, the bars behind them framing their tangled limbs as they strip away clothes, leaving only skin and desperate need. The last shot catches Centuri’s clean-shaven jaw pressed to Mwaka’s neck, his fingers still buried, the blindfold obscuring everything but the, unfiltered hunger between them.
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