Carl Ross fucks Joel Vargas

Carl Ross grips Joel Vargas’s hips as he presses his mouth to the tight, puckered hole, tongue flicking deep while Vargas’s fingers dig into the bench. The blue shorts ride low, barely containing the thick cock that leaks against the fabric as Ross’s lips seal around the asshole, sucking hard. Vargas’s dark hair falls forward, obscuring his face as he moans, his own fingers working the other’s hole with rough precision. The locker room’s hard surfaces press against their bodies, the bench slick with sweat and need.