Quaking Quills of Solitude

A shadowed figure takes center stage, his cock already hard and twitching with anticipation. He grasps it firmly, his hand sliding up and down the veined length, a symphony of sensation playing out in his grip. His body rocks, his hips bucking as he picks up the pace, the sound of flesh on flesh filling the room. His grunts grow louder, his strokes more urgent, until with a final, shuddering gasp, he spills his load, his cock jerking as he paints his belly with sticky, white ropes of cum.

• dick
• shaking
• soloboy

• Unknown