Czech Tales, Part 1

Boris Sacharov wandered the shadowed streets, utterly lost. Naked skin gleamed under the faint streetlights, his body a magnet of raw, hopeless allure. Enzo Bloom spotted him from afar, eyes narrowing with predatory hunger. He swooped in, closing the distance like a shadow claiming its prey. Their bodies collided in an instant—massive cocks hardening against each other, balls heavy and brushing with urgent promise. Kisses crashed fierce and deep, tongues battling for dominance. Hands roamed greedily: gripping firm asses, fingers teasing tight assholes, tracing every ridge and curve. They lost themselves in the heat, two big-dicked studs devouring one another whole, no room for anything but the slick slide of flesh on flesh.