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In the hush of the night, a solo symphony begins. A man, his body bathed in the soft, ethereal light of the moon, takes his rigid cock in hand. His strokes are slow, deliberate, each one drawing a low moan from his lips. The room is filled with the scent of his musk, the sound of his hand working his cock, the wetness of his pre-cum slicking his shaft. As he nears his climax, his body tenses, his cock throbs, and with a final, shuddering breath, he comes, his cum painting the sheets in thick, creamy streaks.