Unsheathing the Monster

In the dimly lit, smoke-filled room, the lone man stands, his body a canvas of tattoos and scars. His hands, calloused and rough, wrap around his thick, veiny cock, the only part of him that seems untouched by the harsh world he inhabits. He works himself with a fervor, his grunts and groans echoing off the bare walls. His body tenses, his cock throbbing as he coats his stomach and the floor with his release. He looks at the camera, a satisfied smirk on his face, before wiping his hand on his jeans and walking away, leaving the room thick with the scent of sex and sin.

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