Michael van Lieshout, in the throes of self-indulgence, explores the boundaries of his desires. His fingers dance along his length, tracing the veins that pulse with need. He imagines hands other than his own, mouths that aren't his own, and his cock throbs in response. He feels the familiar tingle at the base of his spine, the tightening of his balls, and with a guttural groan, he comes undone, his seed spilling forth in warm, sticky waves.