Angel Ventura bends over the rough bark of a fallen log, his dark hair falling forward as the other man, clean-shaven, muscular, and gripping the handcuffs, slams his fist into his asshole without warning. The first thrust splits the air, and deep, while Ventura’s mouth is stuffed with a cock so thick it stretches his jaw open, his teeth grinding against the shaft as the other man pulls his hair hard enough to lift him off his knees. The woods swallow their groans, the only sound the wet slap of flesh against flesh and the rasp of restraints biting into his wrists.
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