Manuel Deboxer sits on the red couch, water bottle in hand, his bearded face half-hidden under a cap as he shifts his weight, muscles rippling under his skin. The tattoos crawl up his arms as he stretches one leg high, fingers digging into his knees or his head, each pose deliberate, shirtless, then fully naked, the couch absorbing his weight as he leans back, arms crossed or raised. His hole stays open, the spread of his legs leaving no doubt what he’s there for.
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