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The creaking of the stairs echoes through the empty house, a symphony to his morning ritual. He leans back, his broad shoulders resting against the wall, one hand gripping the banister, the other wrapped around his rigid cock. His eyes flutter closed as he imagines the soft touch of his lover's hand, the tight warmth of her mouth. His strokes are steady, confident, his breath hitching as he nears his climax. With a final thrust, he spills his seed, painting the stairs with his morning offering, a secret smile playing on his lips.