The scent of sandalwood fills the air as our Indian protagonist retreats to his sanctuary, a hidden corner in his bustling home. He's a picture of restraint, yet his eyes betray a hunger that's far from chaste. His hands, once folded in prayer, now tentatively trace the outline of his hard, uncut cock through his cotton pyjamas. With a sharp intake of breath, he frees himself, his hand moving in rhythm with his racing heart. He's a whirlwind of sensation, his body responding to his own touch in ways he's never dared explore.