A lone figure in a shadowy corner, the soloboy finds solace in his solitude. His hand, a lover's caress, traces the length of his rigid, veiny shaft. The sensation is intoxicating, his breath ragged, his heart pounding. The room fills with the soft, rhythmic sound of flesh on flesh, punctuated only by his quiet moans. His orgasm builds, a crescendo of pleasure, as he imagines faceless partners, their bodies entwined, their moans echoing his own. With a final, shuddering release, he collapses, spent and satisfied, in the quiet aftermath of his self-love.