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In the quiet of dawn, our unseen hero awakens with a raging erection, his morning wood demanding attention. He strokes his length, feeling the velvety skin against his palm, as pre-cum beads at the tip. With a groan, he picks up the pace, his hand a blur as he races towards release. The room fills with his grunts and the sound of flesh slapping flesh, the symphony of his solo symphony. Finally, with a guttural cry, he erupts, thick ropes of cum painting his chest and hand, a testament to his morning's work.