Solitude's Rhythm

In the dimly lit room, a young man, anonymous yet tantalizing, takes center stage. His eyes locked on an unseen fantasy, he begins to stroke his hard cock, the only sound the rhythmic slapping of his hand against his flesh. His breath hitches as he picks up the pace, his body tensing, muscles rippling. He's a solo symphony, a one-man orchestra, playing his body like a fine instrument.

• soloboy

• Unknown