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In the soft, waxy light, he begins his private performance. His cock, a rigid instrument of pleasure, stands at attention, yearning for his touch. He teases it, running his fingers along its length, feeling it pulse with life. His breath hitches as he wraps his hand around it, the friction igniting nerves. He builds a rhythm, slow and steady, his gaze locked on the dance of his hand. The room fills with the scent of wax and pre-cum, a heady perfume of his desire. His body tenses, his grip tightens, and with a final stroke, he finds his release, painting his chest with his essence.