As the sun peeks through the curtains, our lone wolf stretches, his morning wood tenting the sheets. He kicks the covers off, revealing his engorged cock. With a smirk, he wraps his hand around it, feeling the pulse. His strokes are slow, deliberate, savoring the sensation. His other hand finds his balls, gently rolling them as he leans back, his eyes closed, lost in his fantasy. His breath hitches, his grip tightens, and with a final, powerful stroke, he paints his torso with his hot, sticky load.