(mh=S0GYuCk4BQGMr6py)3.jpg)
As the rain pelts down, Mr. Brooks retreats to his room, a throbbing need pulsing through his loins. He strips naked, the cool air prickling his skin, and lies back, eyes closed, focusing on the symphony outside. His hand trails down, wrapping around his thick, stiff cock, letting out low, guttural moans that mingle with the thunderclaps. He imagines the rain's force, its relentless pounding, mirroring the thrusts of a lover. His strokes quicken, his breath hitches, and with a final, guttural groan, he spills his hot seed onto his abs, the rain's rhythm echoing his intense climax.