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A man, alone in his apartment, finds solace in the rhythmic clicking of his keyboard, but his body betrays his intentions. His fingers, meant for typing, instead trace the buttons of his shirt, slowly popping them open, revealing the tanned skin beneath. He shifts in his seat, the fabric of his pants stretching taut over his growing erection. His breathing hitches as he reaches down, his hand cupping the hard length of him through his pants. He leans back, his eyes fluttering closed, his mind filling with vivid images as his hand begins to move, stroking himself to the brink of ecstasy. The room is filled with the soft sounds of his pleasure, his body tensing as he nears his release, the scent of his arousal heavy in the air.