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The garden, bathed in the ethereal glow of dusk, becomes his playground. He tugs at his jeans, freeing his throbbing member, and begins to stroke, the sensation of his calloused hands against his sensitive skin sending shivers down his spine. He imagines the garden's eyes on him, the flowers blooming in response to his touch, as he picks up the pace. His moans echo through the empty garden, accompanied by the soft rustling of leaves, as he nears his climax. With a final, shuddering breath, he spills his seed onto the earth, marking the garden as his own, before cleaning himself up and returning to his duties, a secret smile playing on his lips.