Awakening to the dawn, our lonesome Adonis finds his morning glory already at attention. He grasps his hefty shaft, the heat of his hand contrasting with the cool morning air. His strokes are firm, purposeful, each one bringing him closer to the edge. His body tenses, his grip tightens, and with a guttural moan, he releases, his seed spilling forth in ropes, painting his chest with his sticky, white art.