Wanker's Delight

In the throes of lonely desire, a man turns to his own touch for comfort. His fingers trace the length of his shaft, feeling the pulse of his arousal. He closes his eyes, imagining the touch of another, his strokes becoming more urgent. His breath hitches as he feels the familiar build, the tension coiling in his core. With a low groan, he comes undone, his seed spilling over his hand, a testament to his solo indulgence.

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