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The hot water pounding against his body only serves to heighten his arousal. His hand moves with practiced ease, tracing the vein along his length, squeezing the head, milking it for the release he craves. The sound of the water masks his grunts, but not the primal, animalistic desire that consumes him. His body tenses, his strokes falter, and with a final, desperate thrust, he comes undone, his cum shooting out in powerful spurts, painting the tiles before being washed away by the insistent flow of water.