Falcon Crest

Aristocrat George Vidanov welcomes his weekend guests—Tomas Dombai, Martin Hubai, and David Vidak—with open arms, eager for their shared indulgences. But as the trio unpacks in the opulent guest suite, Tomas succumbs to a surge of raw hunger. He strips them bare in swift, urgent motions, their clothes pooling on the polished floor. Kneeling, he lavishes their rigid cocks with his skilled mouth, tongue swirling and lips sealing tight, drawing out throaty groans that echo off the walls. Martin stretches out on the silk sheets, his body taut and inviting. Tomas mounts him then, hips slamming down in a frenzy, riding like a wild thing taming a savage stallion. Sweat slicks their skin; the bed creaks under the onslaught. David circles, eyes dark with need, before claiming his place behind Tomas, thrusting deep until the rhythm builds to a shattering crescendo. One by one, they shatter—bodies arching, releases spilling hot and fierce.