(mh=hmFttpymnM1L8rvt)5.jpg)
In the hushed sanctity of his private space, he begins. His fingers trace the lines of his cock, feeling the heat, the weight, the pulse. He grips it, not too tight, not too loose, and starts to move. His hand glides up and down, spreading pre-cum, the slick sound of skin on skin his only companion. He's not rushing, he's savoring, each stroke a testament to his own desire.