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In the quiet of his room, he indulges in a private concert, his body the instrument, his hand the maestro. He plays with his cock, feeling every ridge, every pulse. He's a connoisseur of sensation, a gourmand of pleasure, and he's not ready for the main course just yet. He teases his balls, rolls them in his hand, feeling the weight, the heat. His cock twitches, begging for release, but he's not done yet. He's a virtuoso of edging, and tonight, he's composing a symphony of self-denial.