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In his squalid lair, a forlorn figure in stained pull-ups seeks solace in self-abuse. The room is thick with the scent of his despair as he sits, his hand working furiously at his pitiful cock. He's a pathetic sight, his body contorting as he humps his hand, the friction of fabric against flesh sending jolts of shame and pleasure through him. His mind is filled with images of his wife with another man, her moans of pleasure echoing in his mind as he chases his own, far less satisfying release. With a final, desperate thrust, he soils his pull-ups once more, his body shuddering as he finds a fleeting moment of grim satisfaction.