Leon Lewis and the bearded man with the chest tattoo flip the cardboard box between them, its edges digging into their skin as the blond’s fingers dig deeper into his hole. The one on top drives in hard, his grip bruising the other’s ribs, while the bearded man’s tongue traces the blond’s ass crack before pulling him back by the hips. They strip in the same breath they start, clothes discarded for the sharp corners and rough surfaces of the boxes.
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