Alone in the dimly lit room, he closes his eyes, his hand working his rigid shaft with increasing fervor. The air is thick with the scent of his arousal. His heart pounds, his groans echoing off the walls. As he nears the edge, he tightens his grip, his body arching, and with a final, guttural cry, he spills his seed, the creamy liquid coating his fingers and dripping down his shaft.