Late Night Solace, Unsheathed

The night is still, save for the soft rustling of sheets as he slips out of his boxers, his inked body now fully exposed. His cock, a thick, veiny beast, stands at attention, ready for the solo dance. He spits into his palm, lubing up before wrapping his fingers around his shaft. He strokes firmly, his grip tight, his rhythm steady. His eyes flutter closed, lost in the sensation, his body arching slightly with each pass. The room fills with the scent of sweat and precum, a heady mix that drives him on.

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