Masterbatory Confession

Retreating to the privacy of my bathroom, I lock the door and turn on the faucet for camouflage. The cool tile under my feet contrasts with the heat building inside me. I unzip, my throbbing member springing free, eager for attention. The mirror reflects my wanton expression as I stroke, my breath hitching with each firm pull. The room fills with the sound of my pleasure, my grip tightening as I near the edge. I lean against the vanity, hips bucking as I paint the porcelain with my release, gasping as the last waves of ecstasy wash over me.

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