Rod Malek grips Stany Falcone’s hips as he pins him against the rough bark, his beard scraping against the other’s neck while he works the thick cock with rough, open-mouthed suction. Falcone arches into the grip of a vine wrapped tight around his wrists, fingers already probing his own asshole as Malek’s palm strokes the shaft, slick with spit and need. The woods swallow their groans, the air thick with the scent of damp earth and sweat as one pulls back just long enough to lick the precome from Falcone’s hole before diving back in.
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