In the privacy of his room, a man indulges in his fantasies, his hand a poor substitute for the real thing but a necessary evil. He grips his stiff cock, his palm slick with pre-cum, and begins to move, his rhythm steady and sure. His mind wanders, picturing the curves of a woman, the strength of a man, the softness of a mouth, the tightness of an ass. His strokes become more urgent, his grip tighter, his breath ragged. He can feel the pressure building, his body tensing, his balls drawing up. With a final, desperate stroke, he comes, his cock pulsing in his hand, his cum spilling out, a testament to his desire and his need for release.