Hard Master kneels on the floor, his muscular frame taut as he grips the straps around his wrists, while the other man presses his face between his thighs, tongue deep in rimming. Dark hair frames their sharp jawlines, both clean-shaven, their bodies locked in a rough, unyielding rhythm. Fingers slide inside the first, rough and deliberate, while the other’s grip tightens, pulling him closer to the edge. No mercy, just the cold press of straps and the wet, relentless work of a master’s hands.
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