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The river's flow mirrors his own, a steady pulse that quickens as he succumbs to the taboo allure of his surroundings. His body responds, hardening, yearning for touch. He obliges, his hand a rough, calloused contrast against his smooth skin. The sun beats down, its heat intensifying as he strokes himself, his movements becoming more insistent, more urgent. The river witnesses his secret, his forbidden pleasure, as he spills onto the grass, spent and satisfied.