Johnny B and Jack Bailey sit across a desk, their clean-shaven faces close enough to taste each other’s breath before Johnny B’s fingers slip inside Jack’s hole. The slim, light-haired man leans back in his chair as Jack drops to his knees, tongue working the tight ring while Johnny B grips his hips, pulling him deeper. Between kisses and slow thrusts of his fingers, Jack’s ass stays wet and open, his body arching as the oral never stops. By the end, both are bare, no clothes left, just skin and the desperate need to keep going.
