The dull hum of the workplace fades as he slips into the bathroom, the scent of industrial cleaner and urine barely registering. His heart pounds in his chest as he locks the stall door behind him, the click echoing his illicit intent. He unzips, his cock springing free, already hard and aching. He spits into his palm, the slick lubrication allowing his hand to glide effortlessly along his length. His breath hitches as he imagines the risk, the thrill of being caught, his fantasy driving him closer to the edge. His strokes become frantic, his grip tight, and with a final, guttural groan, he comes undone, his cum splattering against the wall, a secret, forbidden mark of his workplace pleasure.