Johnny Ford grips Jack Bailey’s hips, his knuckles white as he stretches the tight ring of his asshole with fingers before sliding in a fist, the table’s cold metal biting into Bailey’s back. Ford’s beard scratches his skin as he licks the slick hole, teeth grazing the puckered flesh while Bailey arches into the pressure, his thighs trembling against the table’s edge. The dark-haired one stands behind, gripping his own cock as Ford’s tongue dives deeper, fingers pumping in and out with a wet, brutal rhythm.
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