The soft glow of the bedside lamp casts a warm, inviting hue as a man settles into his favorite armchair. His hand, moving with a rhythm born of familiarity, slowly works his cock from base to tip. He's a master of his own pleasure, knowing just how much pressure to apply, where to linger, when to speed up. His other hand wanders, teasing his nipples, tracing the V of his hips, cupping his heavy balls. His breath hitches as he nears the edge, his movements becoming more urgent, more desperate. With a final, powerful stroke, he comes undone, his cock pulsing, spilling his load onto the worn pages of the book he'd been pretending to read.