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In a dimly lit room, a young man, his body a canvas of tattoos, sits alone. His hand, calloused and rough, wraps around his throbbing member, a massive, veined beast that tents his shorts. He's no stranger to his own touch, and with a grunt, he frees the beast, letting it bob heavy and free. His strokes are confident, long, and slow, building a rhythm that matches his ragged breaths. Pre-cum beads at the tip, a glistening invitation that he eagerly accepts, using it to lube his strokes, his hand a blur as he races towards release.