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In the dimly lit, echoing expanse of the gym, a lone man, a vision of chiseled muscles and glistening skin, finds solace in his solitude. The rhythmic clanking of weights and the distant hum of machinery serve as his symphony as he tends to his needs. He runs a hand over his smooth, ebony skin, feeling the ripple of muscles beneath. His hand trails down, finding his hardening cock. He strokes it slowly, the friction sending waves of pleasure through him. His other hand grips the nearest bench, knuckles turning white as he increases his pace, his breath ragged, his body tense. The room fills with the sound of his flesh slapping against flesh, his grunts of pleasure echoing off the walls.