(mh=I6dRCHusR6pg0Dpk)16.jpg)
As the first light of dawn filters into the kitchen, a lone man finds himself drawn to the warmth of the coffee maker. The scent of the brewing beverage is intoxicating, stirring something within him. He's clad only in boxers, his body still soft from the night's sleep. Yet, his cock has other plans, tents his shorts, demanding attention. He grips it, rubbing slowly, eyes closed, lost in thought. The kitchen, usually a place of cooking and cleaning, becomes his private sanctuary, a stage for his morning performance. The coffee finishes its cycle, the pot clicking off, a symphony in his one-man show.