Solitary Sin: A Man's Private Dance

In the quiet of his room, a man stands alone, his body tense with anticipation. His hand, rough from years of labor, begins its slow descent, tracing the lines of his torso. He's a sculpture, chiseled and hard, and his touch ignites a fire within. His cock, thick and veined, responds to his touch, growing hard and eager. He strokes it, feeling the smooth skin stretch over the steel beneath. His breath comes in ragged gasps as he imagines hands other than his own, mouths that aren't his, wrapping around his length. His movements become more urgent, his grip tighter, until with a final, shuddering groan, he spills his seed onto the floor, leaving him satisfied, yet yearning for more.

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