Julio Rey’s tattooed, muscular frame pins Diesel O’Green against the rough wood of the bench, his grip firm as he drives into him with slow, deliberate thrusts. Diesel’s dark hair falls forward, obscuring his face as Julio’s hands dig into his hips, holding him steady for every hard, wet stroke. The air between them is thick with the sound of flesh slapping skin and the wet, rhythmic breathing of two men locked together in the woods.
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