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In the quiet of his kitchen, a man finds solace in solitude. He strips off his shirt, revealing a toned physique, and takes a seat at the table. His hand wanders down, unbuckling his jeans, and pulls out his throbbing cock. He strokes it slowly, feeling the warmth and stiffness, lost in his own rhythm. The table's smooth surface reflects his labored breaths, as he picks up the pace, his grip tightening. His body tenses, muscles clenching, as he reaches his peak. With a guttural groan, he releases, painting the table with his essence.