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Grafeio, a verified amateur, finds himself in a cramped, vertical workspace, his desk a makeshift altar to his carnal desires. His big, hard dick throbs in his hand, a metronome to the mundane rhythm of office life. He strokes with purpose, his gaze fixed on the computer screen, but his mind elsewhere. The fluorescent lights flicker, casting harsh shadows on his sweat-slicked body as he works his meat, measuring time in thrusts and strokes. His office clothes remain on, a thin barrier between his public persona and the lewd reality of his private moment.