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In the quiet hum of an empty office, a lone janitor finds solace in his secret ritual. With the door locked and the world outside forgotten, he leans against the cold, hard wall, unbuckling his belt. His hand wraps around his throbbing length, the friction sending shivers down his spine. The dim light casts long shadows, accentuating every stroke as he builds a rhythm, the sound of his ragged breath echoing in the silent room. His grip tightens, his pumps become more urgent, until he finally finds release, painting the floor with his warm, sticky essence.