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The hotel room is his sanctuary, a place where he can indulge in his most primal urges without fear of judgment. His body is a temple, and his cock, a scepter of power. He runs his hands over his chiseled physique, a symphony of sensation that culminates in the throbbing monster between his legs. He grips it tightly, feeling the veins pulse with life, the head swollen with need. He works it with skill, his hand a blur, his breathing heavy, his body tensing as he nears the point of no return. With a guttural groan, he spills his load, the creamy white cum painting the hotel sheets in a testament to his carnal pleasure.