Alone in his sanctuary, a man indulges in the primal art of self-gratification. His hand moves in a steady rhythm, coaxing his rigid length to stand at attention. The air is thick with the scent of his arousal, a heady perfume that fuels his desire. His body responds to his touch, muscles taut, breath ragged, as he approaches the precipice. With a final, powerful stroke, he tumbles over the edge, his body convulsing as he finds his release, marking his chest with his hot, sticky seed.