Marion Anel kneels behind Jerome Fisher, his muscular back flexing as she presses her fingers deep into his tattooed asshole, the rough texture of his skin contrasting with the smoothness of her touch. The woods swallow the yellow massage mats beneath them, their bodies angled just right for Jerome to sink his teeth into Marion’s shoulder while she licks his hole open, tongue thick and deliberate. His arms, inked with swirling designs, grip the mat as she straddles his lap, her dark hair falling forward to obscure his face, only his sharp exhale breaking the quiet.
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