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In the dimly lit room, a young man, his body a canvas of tattoos, sits alone on a plush couch. His eyes flutter closed as he wraps a sleek, clear condom around his throbbing, uncut cock. He begins to stroke, his grip tight, rhythm steady. The latex stretches and hugs his length, glistening with lube as he picks up pace. His other hand reaches down, cupping his heavy balls, rolling them gently. His breath hitches, the room fills with the sound of his wet palm meeting his rigid flesh, and the soft hum of music playing in the background.