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Alone in his room, a chiseled, masculine figure sits on the edge of his bed, his eyes closed, lost in thought. His hand begins to move, slowly at first, then with increasing urgency, as he imagines a scenario that sets his loins ablaze. His cock stiffens, and he begins to stroke it in earnest, his grip firm, his rhythm steady. The room echoes with his grunts and the wet sound of his hand moving along his length. With a final, guttural moan, he comes undone, his body convulsing as he paints his torso with his creamy, white seed.