Anthony London fucks Jackson Lawless

Anthony London’s thick, calloused fingers stretch Jackson Lawless’s hole open with slow, deliberate pressure, the slick sound of lube sloshing from a bucket as he works the first fat digit inside. Jackson grips the edge of a surface, his back arched, while London’s other hand guides the motion, no hesitation, just the force of a fist wedged deep, pulling back to stretch before driving forward again. From the floor to the knees, from standing to bent over, the angle changes but the grip never loosens, the bucket’s ladle left empty as the lube runs down Jackson’s thighs.