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Karl Kourny, a man of simple pleasures, finds solace in the rhythm of his own touch. In the quiet of his room, he sheds his clothes, his cock standing proud and eager. He leans back, one hand working his length, the other cupping his heavy balls. His body tenses, his ass clenching as he nears the edge. With a final, hard stroke, he tips over, his cock pulsing, cum spilling over his fingers and onto the floor, a testament to his self-induced ecstasy.