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The old timer, alone in his den, can't resist the temptation any longer. His gnarled hand wraps around his still-impressive cock, a remnant of his youth. He tugs at it, his calloused fingers rough against the sensitive skin. The room echoes with the sound of his labored breathing, the smell of aged masculinity filling the air. His strokes become more urgent, his body tensing as he nears the edge. With a final, powerful tug, he comes undone, his body convulsing as he paints the floor with his seed.