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The darkroom's heavy velvet curtain swings shut behind him, sealing him off from the world outside. He's alone, but the club's rhythm still thumps through the walls, a primal beat that stirs something deep within him. His hands, slick with oil, roam over his body, tracing the lines of his abs, the curve of his ass. His cock, hard and throbbing, strains against his briefs. With a growl, he shoves them down, freeing his length. It's a lewd sight, his oiled-up body, his thick, uncut cock in his fist, the head glistening with precome. He strokes, slow and steady, his breath coming in ragged gasps, lost in the sensation, a slave to his own desires.