Dante Colle grips Vadim Black’s hips while he kneels, his tattooed arms flexing as he guides him into position, then slams his cock into Black’s asshole with a sharp, controlled thrust. Black moans around Dante’s wrist, his fingers buried deep inside him as the yoga mat creaks beneath their shifting weight, the air thick with the sounds of breath and skin slapping. Their bodies twist into unnatural angles, muscles straining as Dante flips him onto his back, only to pin him down and drive harder, the rhythm of fucking matching the impossible stretch of a downward dog.
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