The bearded man in red sportswear kneels between the others, his hands gripping the towel-wrapped cocks while the bald one leans forward to lick the medical tape still clinging to his chest. One stretches out on the bench, fingers probing deep as the third adjusts the tape with deliberate precision, his lean frame blocking the light. The locker room’s scent lingers, sweat, antiseptic, the sharp tang of tape, while their mouths meet in a rough kiss, teeth catching.
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