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The shower is his sanctuary, a place to unleash his desire without judgment. The water runs hot, mimicking the heat building within him. His BBC, a monster, fills his hand, the veins pulsing with need. He leans in, letting the water pummel his back, the sensation intensifying his pleasure. His grip tightens, his strokes becoming more urgent, more desperate. The sound of his hand meeting his flesh echoes, a symphony of his solo symphony of pleasure.