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A fiery-haired cutie wakes up with a tent in his sheets. Rubbing his eyes, he decides to take matters into his own hands, literally. He grips his morning wood, feeling the vein pulse against his palm. His mind races with dirty thoughts, imagining another guy's lips around his shaft. His strokes become more urgent, his grip tighter. His body tenses, and with a final thrust, he spills his load, painting his stomach with streaks of white.