My Tiny Solitude

The boy, alone in his room, feels the itch that only his own hand can scratch. His cock, small but eager, tents his jeans, begging for release. He pulls it out, feeling the cool air against his heated skin. He strokes it, his grip firm, his rhythm steady. His eyes flutter closed, his imagination running wild with images of faceless lovers. His breath hitches, his body tenses, and with a soft sigh, he comes, his cock pulsing in his hand as he paints his belly with his cum.

• cock
• tiny
• my
• soloboy

• Unknown