In the dimly lit room, a man sits, his body tense with anticipation. He's alone, but his hand is enough company, wrapped tightly around his monster cock. The veins pop out, snaking up and down his length, throbbing with each stroke. He's lost in his own world, his hand working his cock with a rhythm that's entirely his own. The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room, a primal symphony that builds to a crescendo as he finally lets go, his cock pulsing as it pumps out rope after rope of hot, sticky cum.