Brian Bonds grips Preston Johnson’s hips, fingers already slick with lube as he prepares to stretch his tight hole, while Preston lies bound in chains, his smooth, muscular body tense beneath the restraint. The blond kneels between his legs, tongue tracing the puckered ring before pressing inside, fingers widening the passage with slow, deliberate force. Chains clink as Bonds holds them tight, his dark-haired, tattooed grip unyielding, no escape, just the relentless stretch of his fist.
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