A man, alone in his private domain, seeks solace in the most primal of rituals. His hand, slick with pre-cum, glides up and down his throbbing shaft, each stroke bringing him closer to the edge. His breath comes in ragged gasps, his body taut as a bowstring. He imagines a chorus of moans, a symphony of pleasure, driving him on. His cock pulses, his balls tighten, and with a guttural groan, he erupts, his cum spurting forth in thick, creamy ropes, baptizing the room in a lewd, visceral baptism.