Preston Johnson’s thick fingers stretch Brian Bonds’ tight hole open, the black leather harness biting into his hips as he leans forward, muscles straining. Bonds grips Preston’s wrist, his own chest hair rough against the other’s skin while he works his way deeper, fingers knuckle-deep before pulling back to lick the slickness from his palm. The two move together, kissing sloppily, hands tangled, before Preston resumes the slow, deliberate thrust, his knuckles glistening as Bonds braces himself, bent over the harness.
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