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In the quiet of his room, he bares his rigid cock, the air cool against his heated skin. He takes his time, exploring every inch, teasing the sensitive head, before giving in to the urge to stroke. His movements are slow, deliberate, his eyes closed, lost in his own fantasy. He can feel the pressure building, his balls tightening, his stomach muscles clenching. With a final, firm stroke, he comes undone, his body shuddering as he paints his chest with his seed.