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A shirt, once pristine, becomes the canvas for a masterpiece of lust. The man, his cock straining against his pants, unbuttons his shirt, the fabric barely containing his bulge. He spits into his palm, lubricating his strokes. His hand glides, his grip tightens, and his breath hitches. The shirt, now riding up, reveals his chiseled torso, a roadmap of desire. His strokes become frantic, his body tensing, and with a guttural groan, he comes undone. Rope after rope of cum stains his shirt, the fabric clinging to his skin, a testament to his intense release.