Morning Wood: Me and My Hand, Again

Another new morning breaks, and I find myself once again in the throes of solitary passion. The crisp air nips at my skin as I rise, my cock already tents my boxers, aching for attention. I pad to the bathroom, my hand already wrapped around my length, a groan escaping my lips as I begin to stroke. The mirror reflects my wanton image, my chest heaving as I fuck my hand, my hips bucking as I chase my orgasm. I grunt, my cock pulsing as I come, my seed painting the porcelain, another morning of self-indulgence complete.

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