Hey, Do You Have Any Holiday Deals On Trips To Hollywood? I've Always Wanted To Be Able To Stroll Along

Hey, do you have any holiday deals on trips to Hollywood? I've always wanted to be able to stroll along the Walk of Fame, see the sights and enjoy myself. Could you make that happen? Thanks in advance!

Our company will gladly send you to Los Angeles. How about a nice package we have here. Our Filmstar Package includes a sightseeing tour, a bodyguard and being driven around the town in a limousine for the real superstar feeling. You are okay with it? Okay, your flight is on Thursday.

The warm sunlight of LA hits your skin and you immediately feel at home here. You had always had the dream of living in the center of arts. You had even tried moving there some years ago, but you just couldn’t find a job. You weren’t handsome or talented enough for the film business and your voice wasn’t good enough to be a singer. 

You leave the LAX and your driver waves a sign at you frantically. “The guy from TF Touristics told me you would come and showed me your picture. You’re Colin Wainwright, aren’t you?” You wanted to correct him, since you had memories of a different name, but then you remember how dumb it would be to correct him, after all your name was Colin Wainwright.

You climb into the back of your luxurious car and take a bottle of champagne out of the mini bar. Your hands are shaky as you open the expensive drink and the payment for your shakiness follows suit. The stuff spills all over your shirt and makes the white textile totally transparent, perfectly showcasing your amazing body. The sleeve busting biceps you call your own, the broad shoulders you have, the thick pecs you worked so hard on building up and not to forget your abs, the body part that drives your fans crazy the most.

Wait, fans? Duh, of course. A world famous actor is supposed to have a lot of fans, right? Especially the girls are all over your body and always nearly orgasm when your shirtless torso is on display in your movies and it is in each and every one of them. Though they are not only all over your body, your almost too handsome face isn’t a turn off either. Your lantern jawline, your thoroughly styled hair, with the black cap draped on top of it. Or your amazingly deep blue eyes, sitting under a pair of thick manly brows and atop a perpetually smiling, totally seducing kissable mouth. And the stubble coating your jawline is a total ladykiller too.

As you admire your reflection in the window you peel off the wet shirt, clinging to your sculpted body and a nice tan and a couple of tattoos are revealed. You slide the dividing glass down and tell your diver, with your trademark baritone: “Could you please drive to my house. The champagne spilled right over me and I don’t want to show up on the Walk of Fame shirtless.”

Several minutes later the car pulls up your house’s gateway and is immediately hordes of paparazzi crowd to your car and take photos. “Oh, shit.”, you say and pack your softening horse cock back into your near skintight pants. Damn, you could see the  headlines tomorrow: “Sexiest Man Alive Colin Wainwright jacks off his legendary penis on every occasion!”

Seems like you won’t be able to go to the Walk of Fame for a while now, without people  noticing your bulge, but you sure can enjoy yourself in your giant house for the time being. You and maybe a few of your female fans.

Sorry for not posting asks in the last days. College and life left me wasted and they probably will keep this on for a few weeks. So I’ll probably have no time to write anything in the next two or three weeks. I am honestly sorry :(

There will be more ;D

The Gypsy’s Curse Part 1

Another RP between @agmsye and I.

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Connor huffed as he made his way from the club to his car. It was a bad night at the club. Some gypsy guy was following him around and flirting with him when Connor was not interested. Connor was more looking to hook up with one of the hunkier guys he saw at the club. Finally Connor had enough and made a little bit of a scene when telling the gypsy to fuck off. Now the gypsy wasn’t bad looking, but he wasn’t muscular or athletic looking at all. Though he had to chuckle to himself about how he was cursed to “always see what he desired, but could not have it.” He chuckled to himself as he looked for his car.

The guy from the parking Service came up to him, wanting to help the Young man. He wasn’t exactly handsome or built, just some skinny pimple faced dork, probably wanting to get some Money. But as he came Close to Connor something happened. There was a bright flash and the dorky guy was gone. In his stead stood a prime example of a man. What seemed like seriously beefy muscles strained the tight t-shirt he was wearing, his bulging biceps threatening to burst out of the sleeves.

Connor’s jaw dropped. He stared at the new hunk before him. The park service’s guy smiled cockily, “Can I help you?” Connor simply shook his head no and the hunk shrugged his shoulders, heading towards the club. He was both horrified and incredibly turned on by what he saw. He hurried to his car, worried he had been given drugs or something.

He sped down the Highway to hs high way and seemingly exceeded the Speed Limit, because it wasn’t Long until he was stopped by a Police car. A policeman climbed out of the car and swaggered over to the waiting Connor. His breathing was heavy when he reached the car, his severe amount of extra fat having slowed him down. Connor winded down the window and another Flash let the slobby policeman disappear. In his stead stood now a black behemoth, leaning down into the car window.

The cop, Officer Burnman, stood at Connor’s window, his bulging crotch resting on his car window. “License and registration,” his deep bass voice rumbled. The younger man scrambled to get his papers and nervously hand them to the hot cop. Officer Burnman took the papers and bounced his pecs approvingly. He looked them over and handed them back to Connor. “Your left tail light is out. Get it fixed. I’ll let you off with a warning this time.”

Connor looked back up, past the officer’s straining shirt, “Thanks officer… Burnman,” he bit his lip, “Is there anything I can do to thank you?”

The officer grunted, “Just fix your taillight.” He turned around and Connor watched the officer’s muscled ass walk back to his patrol car.

Connor waited until the Police car was out of sight until he started his engine again. Slowly he drove to the outskirts of the town, parking in front of his house. He hurried upstairs and took the key out of his pocket, wanting to open the door, when his neighbour left his flat, his dog at his side. He was an average Family man, dressed in only a Jogging suit. But when Connor turned around and looked at him, the man was engulfed by a blinding Flash of light.

The jogging suit was pulled tight over every muscle of his neighbor, Tim. It was unzipped a little at the front, showing off his bulbous pecs that had a light covering of brown hair. Just about it, his chin now was sharper and had a short beard. Even his dog had changed from some small dog to a German Shepard. Tim smiled, showing his perfectly white teeth, and waved to Connor before jogging down the hall.

Connor was still perplexed at how he had been able to see the thick vein running along his neighbour’s thick biceps through the Jogging suit, when he entered his flat. He tried to comprehend what had happened. This all had started when the gypsy guy had “cursed” him. But that couldn’t be real, right? “Maybe it will look different tomorrow.”, Connor thought and went to bed, his dreams filled with pics of the parking guy, the cop and his neighbour. Connor awoke to the smell of cum and wet sheets. He was surprised as he hadn’t had a wet dream since freshman year of high school. He balled up the sheets and grabbed some detergent before heading down to the communal washroom, passing off the past events of the night and a long wet dream.

He was so lost in his thoughts he only barely noticed another guy Standing in the washroom. He stood there in only a pair of tighty-whities, his over clothes probably in one of the machines. As he greeted Connor, the Young man so lost in his thoughts that he startled and looked up. With another Flash the nearly nude man disappeared and was replaced with another hunk. The new man was seemingly of Asian origin and looked like he had just stepped off the cover of a Fitness Magazine. His tighty.whities had been replaced with a dark green pair of posing Trunks, that looked Close to giving in to the sheer size of the set of genitals behind it.

Kenichi, formerly Ken, turned back to his machine as he read the latest fitness magazine while he waited for his load to finish. Connor got a look at his prime, muscled glutes. Connor was so shocked he dropped his sheets and detergent. The hulking Japanese man turned back around, “You ok man?”

Connor bent forward to recollect his things, “Y-yeah.” He hurried at a machine on the other side of the room, his heart racing.

He started the washing machine and left the room, not wanting to stay near the hunky Asian for too Long, in fear of Shooting a load from his sheer presence. Kenichi only rolled his eyes at the stupid Performance and turned back to his Magazine. Soon later Connor was back in his flat, when the doorbell rang. He heard the mailman, a well known pudgy person, in front of his door. Connor only told him through the door to just leave whatever he had in front of the door, but the mailman insisted on his signature.

Connor could still hear the old rasp in the mailman’s voice. He looked through the peephole and breathed a sigh of relief. He smiled and turned the handle, not seeing the flash of light come from the cracks in the door frame. When he opened the door, he was greeted to what looked to be a football player wearing a mailman uniform. “Sign here,” the young jock in a mailman uniform said as he thrust the tablet to Connor.

Connor didn’t even look at the table when he signed, his gaze drawn to the formerly old mailman’s new muscles. “Whatcha staring at?”, the jockish mailman chuckled and bounced his heavy pecs, before taking back the signed tablet and Walking away, seductively swaying his ass as he did so. Open mouthed Conor watched the man walk away, his eyes fixed on the muscular bubble butt.  "What should I do?“, Connor asked himself, thinking of the endless possibilities his new power offered.

The timer on his phone went off, signaling that his load was finished. He didn’t have time to think and did not want his clothes stolen. He did his best to move stealthily down the floors to the bottom floor where the laundry room was. He was dodging kids, neighbors, and staff as he made his way to the room. Kenichi wasn’t there anymore and he was thankful it was empty. He took his now clean Sheets out of the machine and packed into a dryer, taking his dear time, assuming he was safe there. But he was wrong, just when he closed the dryer’s door, the door to the washing room opened and a guy stepped in. Connor recognized hm as the Grandson of the old Lady in the ground floor apartment. He couldn’t be older than 18, Kind of nerdy. That is until he was engulfed by a flash of light.

Now he looked like a nerd on steroids, literally. He still had thick rimmed glasses, but they complemented his face more than anything. His still wore a blue and white plaid button-up, but now it was straining to contain his immense torso. He bent down and put a bunch of women’s clothes into the hamper before carrying it back up to his grandmother’s room without saying a word to Connor. Connor quickly grabbed his basket and followed the hunk just to be sure. When he say the hunky nerd go into old lady Bella’s flat, he felt panicked again and ran back to his flat and double locked the door. He needed some time to figure it out.

Still not done :D

The Gypsy’s Curse Part 2

Another part of a RP between me and @agmsye

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The sun streamed into through the blinds of Connor’s apartment. His alarm had gone off, but he slept through it. Connor had spent the whole night researching what could be happening to him with the curse, even consulting his favorite MG site. He was exhausted by the time he fell asleep. He only woke up because of the shouting he heard coming his neighbor’s apartment. When he awoke, he thought the wife was being attacked until he listened closer. She was shouting things like, “faster,” “harder,” and “oh god.” It took only a few seconds to get the picture. His neighbor, Tim, was not much to look at yesterday, but after his transformation, he must now be a sex beast. However, he forgot all about that when he looked at his phone and saw he overslept and might be late for class.

In a hurry to get going, Connor forgot eating breakfast and ran down the stairs. He passed by Kenichi, the hunky Asian must be living in this house as well, and the newly hunky grandson of the ol Lady downstairs. He quickly ran down the street and climbed into a taxi, forgetting about the curse for a Moment. “Where shall I take you?”, the Driver of seemingly Middle Eastern origin asked with a heavily accented voice, before being engulfed by a blinding light. The seat was now occupied by an incredibly built man in his early thirties, his muscles making it impossible to use the seat next to him.

Connor wasn’t paying much attention as he scrambled to close his bookbag. Only when the driver asked again in a much deeper voice did Connor respond. “Oh uh Carver University. The um… Coleman Building please.” The driver nodded and started the meter. Connor’s eyes were glued to the driver’s tanned, bulky arms. He watched how they would flex as he turned the wheel. When at a stop light, he swore the driver would bounce a pec or bicep for him.

A far too short drive of flexing and bouncing later, the car reached the Campus and Connor hopped out. He threw a last lustful glance at the Driver when he payed his bill, earning another pec bounce as a reward for the generous tip. He stood there for a second and watched the car drive away, before looking at his watch and realizing he luckily still had some time. Following the rumbling of his stomach,he decided to head over to the coffee shop and grab a snack.

Luckily the coffee shop was right next to his building. He shuffled inside, keeping his head down, hoping to avoid causing anymore transformations. Fortunately it was near the start of morning classes, so it was relatively empty. He slowly made his way to the counter. Hoping the usual barista was there, he looked up only to see a brief glimpse of the skinny, male hipster before seeing the flash of light.

His new Barista was a really hot guy. Instead of White he was now a latino, and his body simply oozed masculinity. His wide shoulders were connected to a pair of big, long biceps and a impressive Torso, which was unfortunately concealed by the apron, though his pecs were really standing out. Connor was so perplexed by the sudden transformation, he only stood there open mouthed, before stuttering, ordering a coffee and a scone.

The latino hunk turned to make the coffee and Connor could not believe he could see the ridges of the stud’s back muscles move as he made the coffee. He stood in bewilderment, wondering if there was even a way to stop this from happening, or if he even wanted it to stop. His stupor was only broken when a deep, sultry voice said, “here’s your coffee and scone.” A voice so deep and melodic, every word sounded like a pick-up line. Connor’s cock was raging hard as he took his drink and scone.

Slowly Connor left the store, lost in thoughts about the two new men he created. He looked at his watch again and entered the Building, only just realizing he was running late. He hurried to the room his next Course was in and quietly entered it. He gulped down his meal and looked around the room. Luckily there were mostly women in his Course and the few guys were seemingly running late as well. Just then the door in the front of the class opened and Dr. Stevens, his Professor entered the room.

Dr. Stevens was one of the older faculty members. Connor kept his head down until the professor stopped at his row. “Ah Mr. Connor Donahue. Please come to my office after class.” He simply shook his head. He saw no flash, so he thought the professor was safe for now. He made the mistake of looking up when the TA walked into the room. The bookish, hunched man was replaced by a hunky supermodel, wearing clothes perfectly tailored to his sculpted body, with an adequate bulge out front. He smiled and a few of his female classmates swooned.

The following hour was hard. Connor lied to his neighbor, a bookish Girl, that he couldn’t read what was on the board and probably needed glasses. She let him copy her writings, but unfortunately she too was to transfixed by the sight of the incredibly handsome TA to really keep up. Connor had to remind her of the board constantly. After this horrible lesson, Dr. Stevens once again reminded Connor, that he wanted to see him in his office. Since there was no opportunity to dodge this, Connor sighed and entered the Prof’s office with his eyes on the floor.

“Now Connor, I have called you in here to discuss the recent essay you submitted on Masculinity and Society. Now I have shared it with some colleagues and we agree that is well written. However there needs to be some edits. With those edits, I think it may be worthy of publication.” Connor got excited and said, “Really!?” Before looking up and being blinded again. Dr. Stevens now sat in the chair as a beast of a man. The top three button of his shirt undone due to his massive pecs, chest hair curling out from it. “Yes, but I believe you need to talk more about the body image of masculine males as well as expanding on sexuality.”

“I would be more than willing to give you an interview, but I can introduce you to some guys in the sports teams if you like,” the former crooky doctor said, all the while bouncing his massive pecs. It was almost hypnotic to see the mounds of muscle dance. “Are you listening, Connor?”, the professor asked with a rumbling bass.

“Umm, yes of Course, sir,” Connor answered.

Dr. Stevens went on and told Connor about the other points of his essay that needed polishing, but Connor wasn’t really listening, he was too swallowed by the playing of Stevens’ muscles.

The professor’s tweed suit looked like it was ready to burst. It was tailored to fit him, but only barely. The professor stood up, much taller than he ever had before. It gave Connor a great view of his wide shoulders down to his impressive bulge. “Now Connor, I must be off to a meeting. I suggest you meet with Coach Stromberg before football practice begins. If you can’t make it, Coach Eisenwald has baseball practice in the morning tomorrow.” He straightened out his tie, his biceps bunching in his sleeves. “Now I’m sure you have other classes. I shall see you Wednesday.”

The professor’s tweed suit looked like it was ready to burst. It was tailored to fit him, but only barely. The professor stood up, much taller than he ever had before. It gave Connor a great view of his wide shoulders down to his impressive bulge. “Now Connor, I must be off to a meeting. I suggest you meet with Coach Stromberg before football practice begins. If you can’t make it, Coach Eisenwald has baseball practice in the morning tomorrow.” He straightened out his tie, his biceps bunching in his sleeves. “Now I’m sure you have other classes. I shall see you Wednesday.”

What now sat in front of the seat looked less like football team members, but more like the bodybuilding club, or judging from the serious bulges all the guys carried, a porn cast. But they all paled in comparison to Coach Stromberg. Where his players were big, he was huge. Where they were tall, he was practically giant and where their jaws were angular, his was carved out of Stone. Coach Stromberg looked like someone had mixed the essence of 100 masculine men and poured them into a skintight pair of Shorts and a near bursting polo.

He couldn’t quite decide, since all of them were perfect and so he sat down in front of the behemoth Coach. “I-I-I wrote a-a-an essay about m-m-m-masculinity and so and..” Connor began stuttering, before being interrupted by Stromberg.

“Stevens already told me about that. He said I should tell you a few things about my place in society and such.” Coach Stromberg intoned and began telling Connor some Things about how he got treated with utter admiration and sometimes downright lust on the streets or how he always had a different person in his bed at night.

The coach’s smooth deep voice hung in his ears, his erection never died down and only throbbed stronger. His voice was filled with authority and experience. Connor listened intently, turned on by what he was hearing. “Ok well that’s all the time I have for now. I hope it was helpful. I gotta get back to my boys. Come back anytime if you want more.” The coach stood and headed for the gym, his bulge bouncing with every thudding footfall. Connor just sitting in the seat, absolutely speechless and stunned.

Connor had to wait about ten minutes until he could stand up, because of his raging hard-on and left the room, that was still filled with the musky stench  of all the manly men. He went to the gym again and heard the clanging sound of weights being lifted. though from the sound of it, the metal wasn’t really heavy. Connor decided to let his curiosity get the better of him and searched for the source of the sound. Connor looked into one of the mirrors and saw a bespectacled pimple-faced nerdy guy benchpressing what looked like only 40 Pounds. But then there was a flash.

The nerd was the football team’s water boy. He didn’t grow to the proportions of the team, but now he looked like the dictionary definition of All American Jock. His hair had pulled back into a natural blonde buzzcut. His brow was more prominent and his jaw much more square, his eyes a deep blue. His arms, shoulders, and pecs had great definition as well as six pack abs. He was working out shirtless. 240 pounds were on the bar instead of just 40.

When he had finished his set and sat upright, Connor recognized the face. The former nerd had not only been the football team’s water boy, but the captain of his college’s chess team as well. It was an odd mix and most people wouldn’t recognize him as one of the most successful players in ages. When the guy saw Connor staring at his body from across the room, he gave Connor an annoyed look and resumed his training. Connor continued watching the waterboy for a while, but then he tore away his gaze and left the gym.

Connor ducked into one of the bathrooms that was thankfully empty. He went into the furthest stall and began to jerk off immediately. He was desperate to get off, surrounded by these hunks. He imagined so many situations in his head. Dancing up on the parking services guy. Blowing the hot black cop to get out of a ticket. Having an affair with his newly hunky neighbor. The scenes were endless.

It didn’t take Connor Long to shoot a load and it felt like he hadn’t orgasmed in ages. The cum ropes didn’t end as he shot load after load, moaning all the time. But suddenly a squeaking Sound signaled that the door had opened. But despite this Connor could neither stop cumming, nor moaning. All of a sudden the Person who had just entered asked: “Are you okay?”, in an innocent, almost childish tone.

“Y-yeah.” He managed to say as cum still leaked from his cock. That seemed to be enough as the childish sounding man took the stall next to his. He looked down to see the man’s shoes. That seemed to be enough to trigger the curse as a flash caught his eye and now he was staring at a pair of feet that took up at least two of the tiles, if not more.

“What are you looking at?”, asked the same childish voice, though it was now at least one octave deeper and came from above the wall. The man stood head and shoulders above the admittedly relatively dividing walls and looked down at Connor. What was visible of him was simply breathtaking. The man’s lantern jaw was coated with light Brown stubble. His brows sat deep above a pair emerald green eyes. His mouth, kissable and plush accentuated his strong chin and the cleft in the middle. And his hair was a perfectly styled mop of Brown hair. He saw the still leaking cock of Connor and asked: “Can I help you?”

Connor’s cock deflated upon hearing the question. “I don’t think you can.” The response confused the newly made stud, an obvious look of confusion crossing his handsome face.

“What do you mean?” This hunk was definitely not used to being turned down.

Connor shook his head, “You would not believe me or understand.”

A cock grin crossed the stud’s face. “Oh yeah? Try me.”

I don't have any family left so I wanted to research it. I want to be closer to my roots. My great grandparents immigrated from Italy in 1919. Looking back further shows my ancestors were slaves in ancient Rome. But at 5'7 and an overweight 210 lbs, I don't see the resemblance to the storied gladiator slaves.

So you’d like to request a classic back to the roots kind of journey, sir? Of course we have something like this in our travel catalog. Currently there is an drastically reduced offer for a hostel room near the center of Rome. I hope this will be enough, though you will probably be preoccupied with research a lot. You want it? Great! The flight from DC is booked for tomorrow. And if I might make a suggestion concerning the search, maybe you should start with the Colosseum after all, I mean that’s were your ancestors fought after all.

It’s shortly after 12 PM when you land in Rome, and the lack of a meal on the flight has left you a little hungry. So you decide to try out one of the restaurants near your accommodation, being drawn to it by the heavenly smell and surprisingly cheap meals. You order a portion of pasta, Italy’s national dish. Your manners are really horrible and you slurp down the spaghetti, each one of them making you resemble the noodles more. Every time you slobber up one of them you lose a little bit of your excess fat. When you’re finished with the noddles, you decide to try the meatballs next.

As you gulf those down too, anyone could see where the meat is going. Each meatball is converted into rockhard muscle. As you slowly empty the giant ball, three meatballs and your arms are serious fitness model size, 8 more and you got a deeply cut eightpack and another 5 and you can call an almost too perfect chest your own. 

You pay your bill and leave the restaurant, but not before asking the busty waitress how to get to the Colosseum. She is only to happy to answer your new sexy bass voice. As you stand before her another side effect of your meal is revealed. Your muscular legs and sculpted upper body have been elongated, increasing your height to an impressive 6′3″. 

You follow the way she described and reach your destination and in front of it stands a guy and he looks rather angry as he marches towards you. “Hey dumbass, you’re supposed to work here and not look after women.”, he yells, grabs by the wrist and drags into a nearby house, where you find a gladiator’s clothing on a table. “Put that on idiot and then come out again.”, he orders and adds as he leaves, “Seriously he has the body of a young god, but the intelligence of a bag of potatoes.”

You notice how hard it is to put the costume on, but pretty much everything is hard for you now, or on you. As you put on the dark leather briefs  you feel the familiar weight of your dick in them and as you put on the helmet your features become hard and sculpted.

So as you see, you’re no slave as your ancestors, but you are so dependent on your manager now, that you are practically his property. But what are you waiting for, put on this gladiator show for the tourists.

Please could you make me go in Russia, where my father and my grand-father were born and turn me like them, a big hairy muscle men who can't stop fucking every woman he sees?

Have you any family in Russia, sir? You could save a whole lot of money when you have a place to stay. An aunt? Well this is perfect, you should inform her of your trip right away, I think she will be happy to see you, after all this time. So there is only the flight to book. I have an offer for next week if that would please you.

As you step out of the plane you are glad to have your mantle. The wind is freezing cold and draped over everything you see is a thick layer of snow. Despite the thick coat you shiver and once again can’t help but think that buying the thick wool hat had been a good idea. You take out a hand to readjust it and feel something different from the woolly material you remember, it’s furry, just like you would imagine the feeling of one of those stereotypical Russian fur caps. You pull your coat close to your lithe body and make your way towards the car of your aunt. 

She is waving at you happily and smiles a wide smile when she hugs you. “You looked so much smaller on Skype, my boy.”, she says and gestures at your quite tall body. Most people react like this when they see your 6′4″ frame.You literally squeeze yourself inside her small car and look at the city’s architecture and all the snow, when you drive to her flat.

Though the flat is nicely decorated, looking like a traditionally furnitured and with old eastern European wallpapers, you decide to decide to roam the streets for a bit. Only when the door closes behind you you notice that you forgot your coat. But since you wear a thick pullover you won’t go back now. You don’t plan on staying outside for too long after all. You walk through the city’s streets and some time later you look on your clock. It’s already been a couple of hours since you left the flat and you don’t feel cold at all. But why would you feel any cold. With the thick muscles you call your own, testament to endless hours in the local gym, in conjunction with the  light dusting of hair, covering your mighty body.

You walk past a bar and decide to pay it a visit.  You order a glass of vodka and look at the other guests. There are more than a few beautiful women in the room and you go and talk to one. She easily gives in to the rumble of your deep voice, the twitching of your gargantuan arms (She seemed to be especially impressed by the bouncing of your heavy pecs.) and most of ll your deep icy blue eyes. 

Shortly after you find yourself in the guest room of your aunt’s flat and the two women you picked up at the bar nude before you. You are only clad in a pair of black shorts and the fur hat, they insisted on you wearing it. Shortly after you find yourself jackhammering your thick vodka bottle sized dick into the girls pussies, grunting heavily while the wooden headboard slams repeatedly at the wall.

So it’s no surprise your aunt threw you out of her flat after the 6th or 7th chick, but I guess you won’t have a problem finding a sleeping place now, a pure blooded Russian man simply doesn’t sped the night alone.