Solitude's Sordid Dance

The boy, barely legal, stands before the mirror, his reflection a mix of innocence and hunger. His hands glide over his lithe body, tracing the lines of his muscles, his breath hitching as he reaches the waistband of his boxers. He slips a hand inside, wrapping his fingers around his hardening cock. He pulls it out, letting it bob free, the tip already glistening. He strokes it, his grip tight, his rhythm steady. His other hand reaches down, cupping his balls, rolling them gently. His eyes flutter closed, his mouth open in a silent moan as he brings himself to the brink, his body tensing as he comes undone, his cock pulsing as he paints the mirror with his release.

• teen
• flash
• soloboy

• teen