Damien Stone, the tattooed one in the orange vest, holds Theo Ross’s head down while his fingers stretch his hole open, then slides in deep, rough and deliberate. Theo, clean-shaven and broad-shouldered, takes it all, his lips wrapped around Damien’s cock as the kitchen counter bears the weight of their urgency. The hard hat stays on one head while the other’s bare skin glistens with sweat and oil, the cabinets pressed into use as they move faster, the air thick with the sounds of wet suction and the slap of flesh.
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