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The room is dimly lit, the air heavy with the scent of sandalwood and the faint, lingering aroma of last night's cigar. He lies back, his naked form sinking into the soft, worn leather of the armchair, his hand idly stroking his shaft as he recalls the previous night's tryst. His eyes are closed, a small smile playing on his lips as he enjoys the quiet, the solitude, and the gentle, persistent throb of his own desire.