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The crisp outdoors air does little to cool the man's burning desire to let go. He's been fighting it, but the pressure is too great. His shorts, once a barrier, now feel like a second skin, clinging to his thighs as the hot liquid flows freely, wetting his pants. He's exposed, vulnerable, yet exhilarated. The sensation of his own warmth spreading, the knowledge that he's lost control, sends waves of pleasure through him. His pants are drenched, the evidence of his surrender clear for all to see, if they only knew to look.