Colt Rivers grips Johnny Hazzard’s hips while he kneels, his tattooed arms flexing as he pulls the red straps tight around the bar, then shoves two fingers deep into his hole. Johnny moans against the leather restraints, his clean-shaven jaw clenched as Colt’s other hand grips his cock, slamming his fist up and down while he sucks him off with rough, open-mouthed hunger. The suit jacket stays on just long enough to tease before it’s torn away, leaving only the red shorts and the wet, desperate sounds of a man being worked over until he’s cumming hard on Colt’s chest.
+13+12+11+10+9+8
