David Skylar’s bearded hand grips Jim Fit’s hips as he kneels behind him, the strap around his waist keeping him steady over the tire while his tongue works the tight ring. Jim’s dark hair falls forward as Skylar’s fingers tease his hole before the slow, deliberate push of his thick cock. The workshop’s rough edge only sharpens the focus, no barriers, just the wet sound of lips and the deep, rhythmic thrusts that leave them both breathless.
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