Solitary ecstasy in Spanish solitude

The house, empty and silent, becomes his sanctuary. His hand, a trusted companion, wraps around his throbbing member. He leans back, eyes closed, imagining the touch of a lover. His strokes quicken, his grip tightens, the friction building a fire in his loins. The room is filled with the scent of his musk, the sound of his pleasure, a secret symphony only he can hear.

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