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In the throes of a raging hard-on, a lone stud retreats to his room, door locked, curtains drawn. His hand, slick with lube, races up and down his throbbing shaft, a feverish rhythm that leaves him breathless. He imagines illicit encounters, his fantasy fueling his strokes. His grip tightens, thumb swirling over the sensitive head, as he nears the edge. With a guttural groan, he spills his load, hot and thick, onto his heaving abs.