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Settling into his quiet, empty home, a silver fox unzips his pants, revealing a throbbing, aged yet impressive member. He strokes it with a familiar, practiced grip, his calloused hands gliding over the veins and foreskin. His solo performance builds, the room filling with the scent of his musk and the sound of his labored breathing. He grunts, his body tensing as he releases a thick load onto his hairy stomach.