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In the dim lighting, a man stands, his body a canvas of shadows and light. His hand wraps around his considerable length, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. He knows what he wants, what he needs. His strokes are slow, deliberate, each one drawing out the pleasure, the anticipation. He's a man in control, his body responding to his touch, his rhythm, his command. The room is filled with the sound of his pleasure, the wet sounds of his hand on his cock, the soft grunts of effort. He's close, his body tensing, his grip tightening. And then, with a final thrust, he finds his release, his body shuddering with the force of it.