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Unbound by time or place, he indulges in his primal need. The room is bathed in the soft glow of twilight, his body cast in long, dramatic shadows. His hand, calloused from years of labor, wraps around his rigid cock, moving with a practiced ease. He's not performing, just existing in this moment, giving in to the pleasure that's been building all day. His strokes are slow, deliberate, drawing out each sensation, until he can no longer hold back, and with a low groan, he lets go.