Wagner, a man of few words and many desires, locks himself in his room, away from prying eyes. He strips naked, his body a temple to his own pleasure. His hands, calloused from years of labor, trace the lines of his muscles, pausing at his hardening cock. He strokes it slowly, feeling the velvety smoothness, the pulse of life. His breath hitches as he picks up the pace, his grip tightening. His moans fill the room, low and guttural, a symphony of self-love.