Beaux Banks grips the pole with his tattooed arms, his dark hair damp from sweat as he stretches over the suspension straps, fingers already slick with pre-cum before he even touches himself. His ass clenches around his own thrusting digits, the bench’s padded edge biting into his thighs as he arches back, the weight of his own body pulling him into deeper penetration. The mirror reflects nothing but the, unfiltered motion, his knuckles disappearing into his hole, his breath ragged, the straps holding him exactly where he needs to be.
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