(mh=NVUuM9wADCGsvlIE)7.jpg)
In his car, a man's fingers dance with his hard cock, the rhythm of the windshield wipers keeping time. He leans back, smoke curling from his lips, eyes closed, lost in his fantasy. His breath hitches, dirty talk flowing like the rain outside, "Yeah, baby, just like that." His feet, bare and twitching, push against the pedals, his body tensing as he nears the edge. The car's interior steams up, his moans blending with the rain's patter, a symphony of carnal desire in the heart of the city.