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In the quiet of his room, a man finds solace in his own touch. His hand, warm and firm, glides up and down his rigid shaft, drawing out pleasure with each stroke. The scent of his own musk fills the air as he loses himself in the rhythm, his grip varying in pressure, his pace quickening. His balls tighten, his body tenses, and with a final, deliberate tug, he coating his palm and fingers with his thick, pearlescent release.