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In the dimly lit, velvet-lined sanctum, a muscular, inked god worships his body, his fingers dancing over his flesh like a pianist playing a symphony. He trails his touch down to his thick, throbbing cock, groaning as he grips it, feeling the pulse of life. His strokes are steady, purposeful, building a rhythm that matches the throb of his heart. He leans back, his body tense, as he reaches the crescendo, his cock pulsing jets of cum onto his stomach, a testament to his self-indulgent pleasure.