Pol Prince kneels on the sand while Allen King grips his hips, his tattooed chest rising with each hard thrust of his fingers into the tight hole. The blond’s mouth seals around King’s cock, taking him deep as the waves crash behind them, his smooth skin slick with salt and need. King’s grip tightens, his knuckles white as he guides Pol’s head, the dark hair falling forward with every pull.
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