Roman, a twink with a twinkle in his eye, locks his door and turns up the music. He's not alone; his audience is his own imagination, and it's hungry. He peels off his clothes, a tease for the unseen, and wraps his hand around his stiff cock. His strokes are slow, deliberate, a private dance for one. He bites his lip, his grip tightening as he nears the edge. His body tenses, and with a final stroke, he spills over, his breath ragged, a satisfied smirk playing on his lips.