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The dimly lit office becomes his private playground. With a swift glance at the closed door, he frees his pulsating cock from its denim confines. His hand, warm and firm, grips his length, pumping rhythmically. The soft, leathery sound of his palm meeting his flesh fills the silent room. His eyes flutter closed, his imagination running wild, until his body tenses, and with a final, desperate stroke, he spills his load onto the desk, a silent testament to his solitary tryst.