Czech Tales, Part 2

Boris meets Enzo's gaze, heat rising between them. They collide in a fierce kiss, hands roaming with urgent need. Screw Jakub—screw Enzo instead; he's right here, ready. But Enzo smirks, playful mischief in his eyes. He slips a blindfold over Boris's head, guiding him with firm hands down a corridor to an indoor pool. There, Ben Eastboy, Paolo Sdo, and Mike Gate wait, naked and eager, their bodies gleaming under the soft lights. Ben and Mike dive into each other first, bodies twisting in raw hunger. Boris and Paolo close in on Enzo, sandwiching him tight—Boris thrusting deep from behind while Paolo claims his mouth. They fuck and suck with wild abandon, a lusty tangle of limbs and grunts echoing off the tiles. The men surge forward, vigorous and unyielding, sweat-slick skin slapping in rhythm. Mike, lithe as a gymnast, bends impossibly—ankles hooked behind his head, his elastic hole on full display, begging for it. The others pounce, drilling him hard, taking turns to stretch and fill that willing void. The four studs ravage one another, cocks plunging and mouths devouring in a rugged frenzy. They break for a quick plunge into the pool, water cooling their fevered skin. Later, in the lounge, they sprawl out, spent yet insatiable. Enzo kneels before Paolo, lips wrapped around his throbbing length, sucking with expert pull. Boris tends to Ben, tongue and hands coaxing every moan. Mike pleasures himself, fingers buried deep, chasing his own peak. One by one, they shatter—climaxes ripping through them, hot loads spilling across chests, faces, and each other in messy, glorious release.