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In the heat of a Brazilian afternoon, a hairy Latino otter, his chest a dense forest of dark curls, seeks solace in his own company. He raises his arms, inhaling the pungent scent of his sweaty armpits, a primal act that sends a jolt of electricity to his groin. His cock, thick and uncircumcised, tents his shorts. He strips, his body a temple of masculine sweat and hair, and begins to stroke, the scent of his armpits a heady perfume that drives him to the brink of ecstasy.