Muscles & Ink: A Private Dance

The room filled with the sound of his own heartbeat as he gazed at his reflection, the tattoos that marked his past, the muscles that were his present. His hand, calloused from years of labor, reached down, cupping his bulging jeans. With a hungry groan, he unzipped, releasing his hard, veiny cock. It stood at attention, throbbing with need. He began to stroke, slowly at first, then faster, his breath hitching as he watched his reflection, the raw, primal desire etched onto his face.

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