Hunter Marx grips Dallas Steele’s hips as he drives deep, his tattooed back flexing with every thrust while Steele moans into his mouth, fingers already buried inside him. The pool’s edge glints behind them as Marx’s grip tightens, pulling Steele closer for rougher licks and harder strokes. His dark hair falls forward, obscuring the way Steele’s hole clenches around his fingers before he’s stretched open for the full length.
