Behold the Beast: Dong Unsheathed

In the dimly lit, dusty room, the anonymous figure, hidden behind a tattered curtain, finds solace in the rhythm of their own touch. A lone hand stroking the length of their engorged dong, beads of sweat forming on their forehead, the only sound the soft, wet noises of pleasure. Their breath hitches as they near the edge, the tension building, before they finally let go, collapsing onto the worn-out mattress.

• i
• my
• stroking
• dong
• be

• Unknown