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The room is filled with the scent of musk and the sound of skin slapping against skin. The ebony god towers over the camera, his BBC a thing of awe and wonder. He grips it tightly, his hand a blur as it works up and down his length. His abs contract, his chest heaves, and his eyes roll back as he nears the edge. With a roar, he tips over, his cum shooting out in thick ropes, painting the room with his essence. He collapses, spent, his BBC glistening and satisfied.