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With a groan, he pushes his thick, uncut BBC through the fly of his jeans, the head already glistening with pre-cum. His beard, dark and full, frames his face as he leans back, eyes closed, and begins to stroke his meaty length. The sound of his hand working his girth fills the room, the scent of his musk heavy in the air. He's alone, but his mind is filled with fantasies of eager, hungry mouths and tight, wet holes. His hips buck as he picks up the pace, his foreskin sliding back and forth over his sensitive head. With a guttural moan, he comes, his massive cock pulsing as ropes of cum shoot from the tip, coating his hand and his jeans.