Bare Male Solitude

The man, in the quiet of his room, undresses, his body a landscape he knows intimately. He lounges, his eyes closed, taking in the sensation of being bare, the air a soft touch against his skin. He drifts, his hand wandering, cupping his balls, stroking his growing cock, lost in the rhythm of his own touch, his body responding to the familiarity of his own touch.

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