Stroke of Genius: Lonely Lust

With a grunt, he begins, his fist a tight, wet vice around his length. His hips buck, thrusting into his hand, seeking more friction, more pressure. His other hand reaches down, his finger finding his tight asshole, circling it, pressing in just slightly. He moans, his strokes becoming faster, more urgent. His body is a canvas of muscles, glistening with sweat, his chest heaving as he chases his climax. The sound of his strokes fills the room, a symphony of desire, a testament to his lonely lust. With a final, shuddering groan, he comes, his cock pulsing in his hand, his cum spilling over his fingers, marking his solo triumph.

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