Ryan Bones and Pierre Fitch stand in the woods, axes gripped tight, their chests bare beneath red caps, muscles rippling as they shift their weight. One kneels between the other’s spread legs, tongue tracing the tight ring of his asshole while fingers probe deeper, the gravel crunching underfoot. The third watches, beard bristling, before pulling the clean-shaven man onto his lap, gripping his hips as he drives into him hard, the tattoos on his arms flexing with every thrust.
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