Michael Boston’s thick arms flex as he pins Drew Valentino’s hips down, his tattoos rippling with every grip while the other’s hole glistens under the light. Drew’s dark hair falls forward as Boston drives deep, his muscular chest straining with each thrust, the couch creaking under their weight. The air hums with the wet sound of flesh slapping, Boston’s grip tightening around Drew’s waist as he holds him in place.
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