Eric Pryor’s beard scrapes Raphael Cedano’s throat as he grips his jaw, fingers digging into the dark hair at his temples while the other man’s tongue forces his way past lips. Cedano’s ass clenches around Pryor’s wrist as he’s rimmed, the couch cushions shifting under their weight, pillows pressed between their bodies to keep the angle sharp. Pryor’s cock slams home with a wet, bruising thrust, his grip on Cedano’s hips turning into a bruise as he fucks him hard, the air thick with the sound of flesh hitting flesh.
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