Hunter Vance grips Chris Noxxx’s hips, shoving his cock deep as the bearded man moans into his mouth, fingers already working his hole. The tattooed one pins him over the white surface, his muscles straining as he slams in hard, the sound of flesh slapping wet. Chris takes every thrust, his breath ragged, while Vance’s lips never let go, his grip bruising. The only thing left is the way they move, rough, relentless, no mercy.
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