Solitary Morning Glory

The sun peeks through the window, casting a warm glow on the slept-in sheets. A hand reaches out, brushing against the morning wood, stirring it to life. A deep breath is taken, and the show begins. The fist wraps around the shaft, pumping slowly, feeling every vein and ridge. The pace quickens, the grip tightens, as the need builds. A low groan echoes through the room, signaling the impending climax. The sheets are soon stained, the morning air filled with the scent of man and satisfaction.

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