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In the soft glow of his bedside lamp, he takes his rigid cock in hand, the veins pulsing with anticipation. He knows this routine, every stroke, every squeeze, every hitch in his breath. It's his nightly ritual, his private performance. His hand works his length, from root to tip, his thumb swirling over the sensitive head. He can feel it building, the tension coiling in his core. With a final, desperate pump, he comes undone, his hot seed spilling over his fist, a satisfied groan escaping his lips.