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Marc's Muscle-Bound Solace: Handjob in the Dark
FantasyMarc, a specimen of pure male perfection, stands in the quiet of his room, the only sound the distant hum of the city night. The air is thick with anticipation as he begins to undress, revealing his chiseled body inch by inch. His hands, calloused from years of manual labor, are gentle as they trace the lines of his abs, the valleys between his pecs. He pauses at the waistband of his boxers, his eyes closing as he takes a deep breath, steeling himself for the pleasure to come. He grips his cock, thick and heavy, through the fabric, feeling the heat of it even through the cotton. He pushes his boxers down, letting his cock spring free, already hard and leaking. He wraps a fist around it, his hand barely able to close around the girth. He strokes slowly, his eyes locked onto the sight of his cock disappearing into his fist. His other hand joins in, cupping his balls, rolling them, tugging gently. His strokes become faster, more urgent, his breathing ragged. He can feel the familiar tingle at the base of his spine, the telltale sign of his impending orgasm. He grits his teeth, his body tensing as he comes, his cock pulsing in his hand, his cum spilling out over his fingers. He leans against the wall, breathing