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In the privacy of his room, he unfurls the thong, his prize from the day's wear. He presses it to his face, breathing in the bouquet of his own scent mingled with the fabric's intimate history. His cock hardens, and he begins to stroke, the thong's scent fueling his desire. He pictures the fabric rubbing against his cock, the dampness, the friction. His strokes quicken, his breathing ragged, until with a final, shuddering breath, he cums, the thong now a canvas for his lust.