Mike Edge grips Ethan Tate’s hips, his dark hair slick with sweat as he drives deep inside, the strap-on harness creaking with every thrust. Tate moans around Mike’s cock, his fingers working his own hole before pulling back to take him again, mouth open in a rough, needy sound. The air thickens with the sound of flesh slapping skin, Mike’s grip tightening as he holds Tate’s waist, his own breath ragged with the effort.
