The manwhore, a stranger to us but not to his desires, begins his ritual. His hand, a tool of pleasure, works his length with expertise. The room fills with the sound of flesh meeting flesh, his grunts of pleasure echoing off the walls. His body tenses, and with a final, forceful stroke, he paints his face with his load. He leans down, licking the mess, his eyes rolling back in ecstasy as he swallows his own seed, a true connoisseur of his own debauchery.