(mh=1qLN33hzT5E81ueF)7.jpg)
The room echoes with the driving bass of Puscifer as an older man, a veteran of life and lust, indulges in his private concert. His substantial, well-worn cock stands at attention, coated in a sheen of oil that catches the light with each languid stroke. His hand, calloused by years of labor and love, works his shaft in time with the music, a dance as old as time itself.