Watch: Hung boys don't cry

Dom King kneels over Trevor Brooks, gripping his hips as Brooks lies flat on his back, his tattooed chest rising with each sharp intake of breath. The bed creaks under pillows propped behind Brooks’ shoulders, his hole stretched open as King drives in deep, bareback, the wet slap of flesh meeting flesh audible. Brooks’ fingers dig into the sheets, his mouth locked around King’s cock, swallowing every thrust while his own ass clenches around the thick invasion. The air thickens with the scent of sweat and musk as King’s tattooed arms flex, his grip tightening just before he buries himself to the hilt.