Home Alone, Hand on Cock

The house is silent, save for the soft hum of the refrigerator and the distant ticking of the clock. The young man, bare-chested and wearing only a pair of low-slung jeans, sprawls out on his bed, his hand idly stroking his semi-hard cock through the denim. His mind wanders, filling with images of faceless lovers, their hands, mouths, and bodies intertwined with his. He pops the button on his jeans, freeing his throbbing cock, and begins to stroke it in earnest, his hips lifting off the bed with each upward thrust of his hand. His breath comes in ragged gasps, his chest heaving as he races towards his climax, his body tensing as he spills his load onto his stomach, his cock pulsing with each wave of pleasure.

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