The city's pulse thrums around him, yet the boy is oblivious, lost in his solitary ritual. Pants bunched at his ankles, he exposes himself to the cool night air, his hand working his rigid cock with increasing urgency. As the first drops of piss escape, he shudders, the sensation intensifying as he continues to stroke, the scent of his own release filling the narrow alley, a secret, sordid symphony in the city's endless rhythm.