Jason Collins grips the strap-on, his olive-skinned, tattooed frame anchored as he drives into Dante Colle’s tight hole from behind, the bench groaning under their weight. Dante’s dark hair hangs forward as Collins’ fingers probe his asshole, then switch to his cock, while his own mouth works the other man’s shaft with rough, open-mouthed suction. The air thickens with the wet sounds of rimming, his tongue tracing the crease before Collins reclaims the focus, his hips pistoning deep with each thrust. Both men’s hands grip each other’s bodies, one jerking off, the other holding on, until the tension coils tighter than the strap-on’s buckle.
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