Ink Fit and Jon Campanelli lock in a brutal grip as the bearded, tattooed one pins the clean-shaven man’s wrists behind him, fingers already probing deep while the other kneels, tongue swirling tight around his throat. The strap bites into flesh as they switch, one on his back, the other rising to slam into his ass raw, the sound of skin meeting skin sharp and unfiltered. Rough, relentless, no barriers between them.
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