Tommy Defendi stands gripping the bench as Braxton Smith kneels, his bearded jaw wet from Tommy’s cock, the soap dispenser left behind on the floor. Braxton’s fingers dig into Tommy’s thighs while his tongue works the shaft, then slips inside his asshole, no hesitation, just the slick sound of skin and the way Tommy’s grip tightens when Braxton’s mouth finally takes him all the way. The locker room’s hard light cuts through the steam, but the only thing that matters is how Tommy’s cock throbs against Braxton’s lips before he flips him onto the bench, driving into him with a single, brutal thrust.
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