Buoys of unfiltered lust, Arthus and Viktor Rom travel into the danger zone of lust with their bodies as missiles, engaged in a pissing pole of human flesh and want. The room is an oven, the air heavy with sweat and the smell of arousal as they rut like animals, they screams and grunts punctuating the night. But in all that cacophony there is beauty, raw, wild beauty that can never be stilled.
