Michael Boston stands with his broad, smooth chest flexed, the blue underwear barely containing his thick cock as he leans forward, his dark hair framing a face carved from stone. Beau Butler kneels behind him, his own muscular frame stretched low to lick and suck the rigid length, fingers gripping the taut ass while Boston’s hands grip the edge of a surface, his breath ragged. The air hums with the wet sound of lips sealing around steel, the blue fabric of his underwear the only hint of restraint before the first deep thrust.
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