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From his perspective, the world is a blur of sensation, a whirlwind of pleasure and denial. His big cock, a relentless beast, demands release, but he teases it, denying it the satisfaction it craves. He grips his shaft, feeling every ridge, every vein, as he strokes himself to the brink and back. His hand, slick with his own juices, slides effortlessly, the friction building, his breath ragged. He's a virtuoso, playing his body like an instrument, each stroke a symphony of self-control. His muscles tense, his body arches, but he holds back, the sweet agony of edging consuming him, his massive cock throbbing with unspent desire.