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In a private, dimly lit room, a middle-aged man, his body marked by time and neglect, sits alone. He squirts lotion onto his generous, flaccid cock, coating it in a slick sheen. His strokes are slow, deliberate, as he works himself to a fever pitch. The air fills with the sounds of his wet, rhythmic tugging. His face contorts with pleasure, eyes closed, lost in his own world. With a final, shuddering grip, he spills his load, a thick, ropy cumshot painting his belly.