Pleasure Express

Alexander Straus stumbles upon the sharp-suited businessman Slavo Jaworsky in the dim corridor. A casual bulge in his jeans catches Slavo's eye—thick, insistent, impossible to ignore. Alexander flashes a knowing grin and adjusts himself, letting the outline speak for itself. Slavo's gaze lingers, hungry. An invitation slips from his lips: 'My cabin. Now.' Inside, the door clicks shut. Slavo drops to his knees with practiced grace, unzipping Alexander's fly. That monster springs free, heavy and veined, pulsing with promise. Slavo takes it in hand, then mouth—lips stretching wide, tongue swirling slow and deep. He sucks with reverence, hollowing his cheeks, drawing out every throb until Alexander's breath hitches. But that's mere prelude. Alexander's hands tangle in Slavo's hair, guiding him up. He needs more—needs to bury himself inside. Slavo rises, shedding his clothes with a sly smile, bending over the cabin's sleek desk. No protests, just eager consent, ass arched and ready. Alexander thrusts in, raw and relentless, claiming every inch as Slavo gasps and pushes back, the rhythm building like a storm at sea.