Solitary Dance: Me and My Fist

In the dimly lit bedroom, the sole occupant, a man of no name, finds solace in the rhythmic dance of his hand. His body, bathed in the soft glow of the setting sun, is a canvas of taut muscle and smooth skin. He strokes his thick, uncut cock, feeling the velvety softness against his rough palm. His breath hitches as he imagines the tight, slick heat of another's mouth, but his hand is all he has, all he wants in this moment. He picks up the pace, his fist a blur, as he chases the sweet release that only self-love can bring.

• me
• gay
• masturbaiting

• gay