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Isolated and craving, he retreats to his private domain, a bottle of lube in hand. His engorged member stands erect, aching for touch. He coats it generously, his fist sliding along its length with practiced ease. His eyes flutter closed, lost in a fantasy of eager lips and warm, welcoming places. His rhythm quickens, his body coiling like a spring, and with a final, desperate stroke, he unloads, his seed pulsing out in thick ropes.