Vic

Who is that enigmatic stranger, all chiseled muscle and that beguiling accent from afar? It's Vic, stepping into the lens for his very first time, ready to stroke his thick kielbasa on film. He claims he's not a bit nervous—calm as a still pond about jerking off for the camera. But his buddy? He's buzzing with thrill, begging for a tape of the whole show. Thank the stars for glasnost—Russia's nod to letting it all hang out. We're thrilled right alongside. This Slavic stud dives in deep, wrapping his fist around that meaty shaft and pumping it with raw intent. Breaths come fast, ragged, like he's racing the wind. He tweaks those pert nipples, traces his firm pecs with a hungry palm, then dips fingers into his tight hole and cradles his heavy balls—every touch a spark to fan the flames. Panting turns to wild gasps and guttural grunts. At last, Vic erupts, unleashing a thick flood of Russian cream across his rippling abs.