The comedor, left alone in the vast, silent kitchen, finds solace in the familiar creaks and groans of the old building. His hands, calloused from years of work, begin to explore his body, tracing the lines of his lean, muscular frame. His breath hitches as he wraps his hand around his hardening cock, the sensation of his rough skin against his sensitive flesh sending shivers down his spine. He strokes slowly, building a steady rhythm, his imagination filling the empty room with the sounds of a lover's touch.