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In the quietude of dawn, a man's primal urges stir. His hand, strong and sure, wraps around his substantial morning erection, hair brushing against his chest as he begins his ritual. His strokes are steady, building a rhythm that mirrors his heartbeat. His eyes flutter closed, imagining unseen hands joining his own, as he feels the familiar tension building. With a low groan, he reaches his climax, his cock pulsing as it paints his torso with evidence of his self-indulgence.