Yuri Bulakov lies back on a couch draped in green patterned fabric, his dark hair slicked back as he grips his cock hard enough to make his knuckles whiten. The way his slim body arches under his own touch suggests a rhythm that’s both deliberate and relentless, every stroke pulling at the tight skin of his shaft. His fingers move fast, his grip unrelenting, as if he’s not just cumming, he’s making sure it’s his way.
