Solitary Sin: Man's Edge to Ecstasy

Alone, he strips, his cock already at half-mast, he spits into his palm, lubing up his length. He strokes firmly, his other hand cupping his balls, rolling them gently. His pace quickens, his body writhing, he's close, so close. He gasps, his grip tightening, his strokes becoming frantic. Just as he's about to tip over the edge, he stops, his body shuddering, delaying the climax, teasing himself, reveling in the sweet agony of denial.

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