In the dimly lit room, he stands, his hard cock tenting his pants. He's alone with his thoughts, his desires. He unzips, letting his "pitudo" spring free. It's a sight to behold, thick and long, veined and leaking. He wraps his hand around it, feeling its heat, its pulse. He begins to move, slow at first, then faster, his grip tightening as he nears the edge. He's a solo dancer, a private performer, lost in the rhythm of his own pleasure.