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In the dimly lit garage, a man, intrigued by the hum of electrical equipment, finds solace in the rhythm of the machines. His gaze fixates on the pulsating current, a primal urge stirring within. He unzips, his hand wrapping around his growing shaft, the sensation of the cool air mingling with the warmth of his palm. His strokes quicken, matching the tempo of the nearby generator, a low groan escaping his lips as he finds release, his seed spilling onto the grease-stained floor.