Solitude's Satisfaction: A Solo Spurt

In the quiet of his room, a man takes matters into his own hands. He unzips, revealing his throbbing member, and begins a slow, steady rhythm. The air fills with the sound of his hand meeting his flesh, the smell of his musk intensifying with each stroke. His breath hitches as he picks up the pace, his grip tightening. With a final, forceful pump, he releases, his hot seed spilling forth, painting his hand and stomach in white stripes of satisfaction.

• soloboy

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