Hunter Blake and Calvin Pratt kneel over Jason Sparks, his tight hole stretched by Blake’s thick fingers while Pratt licks the sweat from his spine, the air thick with the sound of wet slaps and a groan that cuts off mid-sentence. The tattooed one, stocky, pale, his chest hair dark with lube, shoves his fist deep, knuckles disappearing as Sparks arches into the pressure, his asshole glistening. Pratt’s beard brushes the back of his neck while he sucks the base of his cock, the bareback tag written in ink on the card. No barriers, just raw force and the way his hole clenches around the first slow thrust.
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