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In the sterile, fluorescent-lit office, the clock ticks towards 3 PM, signaling the start of his illicit interlude. His heart pounding in sync with the ticking clock, he unbuckles, the sound of his zipper echoing like a gunshot in the silent room. His cock, already hard and eager, pulses in his hand as he begins to stroke. The risk of discovery, the taboo of it all, fuels his arousal. His strokes become more urgent, his moans louder, more insistent. He can't hold back any longer, his body convulsing as he finds his climax, his office now a silent witness to his forbidden pleasure.