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The bathroom, his sanctuary, is where he goes to indulge his desires. The steam from the hot shower fogs the mirror, obscuring his reflection, but he knows what's there - his body, taut and ready. He's a solo performer, his audience of one, and he's always eager to put on a show. His hand wraps around his length, fingers barely meeting as he strokes. He's a master of his craft, knowing just how to touch himself, how to draw out his pleasure. His other hand explores, teasing his nipples, tracing the lines of his abs, dipping down to cup his sac. His breath hitches, his strokes falter as he edges closer, the pleasure building, coiling in his belly. With a final, rough pull, he comes, his release painting the tiles, his body shuddering with the force of it.