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The dim lighting of the dining room cast long shadows as Ziggy, in a moment of quiet desperation, decides to take matters into his own hands. Literally. His uncut cock springs free from his jeans, already hard and eager. He spits into his palm, lubricating his length before gripping it tightly. His strokes are slow, deliberate, each one drawing a soft moan from his lips. The cool air of the empty room caresses his heated skin, adding another layer of sensation to his solo session. He can feel the tension building, his breath hitching as he nears the explosive release he's been craving.