Solitary Jack Stroke: Off into Oblivion

In the quiet solitude of his room, Jack steps out of his jeans, leaving them in a crumpled heap on the floor. His boxers follow suit, and he stands there, naked, his cock already at half-mast, waiting for his touch. He wraps his hand around it, feeling the heat, the pulse, the life. His strokes are rhythmic, methodical, each one bringing him closer to the edge. His body tenses, his breath hitches, and with a final, forceful stroke, he's there, spilling over, his release painting the room with his satisfaction.

• off
• jack
• stroke
• soloboy

• Unknown