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A mature man, his body weathered by time and experience, takes the spotlight. His hands, rough and calloused, work their magic, his grip firm yet tender. He starts slow, his hand gliding up and down his thick, veiny cock, his breaths steady and deep. The room fills with the sound of his wet, lewd strokes, the scent of his musk heavy in the air. He picks up the pace, his hand moving faster, his grip tighter. His body tenses, his hips thrusting forward, and with a guttural groan, he releases, his load thick and creamy, coating his hand and the floor beneath him.