The razor's command

The man's voice, rough like a worn leather belt, echoes in the room as he commands, "Shave it all off." His body, a rugged landscape of hair, awaits the razor's touch. He begins at his chest, the blade gliding through the thicket, revealing smooth, tanned skin beneath. He moves down, his hand steady, his breath controlled. His abs, a six-pack of steel, are next, then the trail leading to his manhood. He pauses, looking into the camera, his eyes dark with desire. "Everything," he repeats, his voice a growl.

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