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In the quiet of his room, Dickie, a lanky, tattooed young man, finds solace in the curves of his own body. His eyes lock onto his crotch, where a substantial bulge tents his jeans. Unbuttoning his fly, he frees his thick, veiny cock, already leaking with anticipation. He strokes it languidly, his hand tracing the familiar ridges and valleys. His breath hitches as he picks up speed, his fist a tight, wet sheath around his shaft. He imagines the softness of a mouth, the warmth of a pussy, but it's his own hand that brings him to the edge. With a grunt, he spills his seed, painting his belly with sticky, white ropes.