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Under the guise of productivity, a man's hand creeps beneath the table, wrapping around his stiffening cock. He's alone, yet the office's hum echoes in his ears, fueling his taboo pleasure. His strokes are slow, deliberate, each one drawing out his enjoyment. He imagines the scandal if caught, the thought sending shivers down his spine. His breath hitches as he nears the edge, his movements becoming more frantic. A final, shuddering release, and his desk is marked with his forbidden indulgence, the scent of his sin hanging heavy in the air.