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The room is dim, the only sound the soft, steady beat of a hidden heart. A man, his body a canvas of lean muscles and tattoos, stands before the mirror. His hand wraps around his massive, stiff cock, the tip already glistening with pre-cum. He starts slow, a gentle caress, his eyes locked onto the reflection of his hand working his length. His grip tightens, his strokes becoming more urgent. His other hand reaches down, cupping his balls, rolling them gently. His hips start to move, matching the rhythm of his hand, his breath coming in short, sharp gasps. He's lost in his own world, a world of pleasure and anticipation, a world where only he and his monster cock exist.