After Hours: My Hand, My Pleasure

As the clock strikes nineteen thirty, he retreats to his private space, the weight of the day lifting as he unbuckles and lets his pants fall. His hand, warm and familiar, wraps around his hardening cock, a silent promise of relief. The room fills with the soft sounds of his pleasure, the wet suction of his hand, the hushed groans he can't quite suppress. His body tenses, a final stroke, and he finds his release, panting, spent, in the aftermath of his solo dance.

• work
• myself
• after
• soloboy
• relieving

• Unknown