Ian, Mr Armstrong and Mr Landon

Ian Landon’s beard scrapes against Tim Armstrong’s throat as he grips his jaw, fingers digging into the muscles while Mr Armstrong’s tongue forces its way past his lips, both men locked in a deep, wet kiss that leaves Ian’s glasses fogged. Below the sheets, Myles Landon kneels between them, his hairy chest pressed into the mattress as he takes Tim’s cock in his mouth, the suction so tight it pulls a choked gasp from the older man, while his fingers probe Ian’s asshole, slicking the tight ring before pressing inside. The bed creaks under their weight as Myles shifts, his own cock prodding Ian’s hole from behind, the head already nudging past the first barrier before Tim’s hands yank him up, flipping him onto his stomach and slamming into him from behind, both men groaning at the sudden stretch, the sheets tangled around their hips.