A lone boy, hidden from view, strokes his hardened lund, his breath heavy with anticipation. His eyes are closed, his mind filled with vivid images of the girls he's seen today. He imagines their soft hands on his body, their lips on his skin. His grip tightens, his movements becoming more urgent. He is close, the tension in his body building to a crescendo. With a final, shuddering breath, he finds his release, his body convulsing as he spills his seed onto the floor.