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In the sterile, fluorescent-lit station, CJ Clark, the lone officer, succumbs to his desires. His uniform, a symbol of authority, becomes a restraint as he unzips, his cock springing free. The cool air does little to deter his arousal. He begins to stroke, his grip firm, his rhythm steady. The creaking of the old building, the distant hum of the city, all fade into the background as he loses himself in the sensation, his body tensing as he nears the edge, the taboo of his actions only heightening his pleasure.