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In the dimly lit security booth, a strapping guard, bored and alone, can't resist the temptation. He unzips, releasing his throbbing member, and begins a slow, steady stroke. The shadows dance with his rhythm, his grip tightening as he builds towards a feverish pace. The lone camera captures his every move, the wet, slapping sounds echoing in the empty room. His body tenses, and with a guttural groan, he finds his release, hot streams painting the cold, hard floor.