Kurtis Wolfe’s tattooed arms flex as he leans against the wall, fingers slick with spit while he sucks his own knuckles. His dark hair falls forward as he licks his lips, hand hovering near his mouth before pressing down to his crotch again. Sitting on the couch with legs spread, he traces his fingers through his own wetness, then brings them to his lips, the tension in his jaw the only hint of how deep it goes.
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