In the dim light of a small, cluttered room, a Poblano lad stands alone, his hand tentatively exploring his verga. As it hardens, he becomes bolder, his grip tightening, his rhythm quickening. His body responds, his breath coming in short gasps, his hips jerking forward as he nears his climax. With a final, desperate stroke, he finds his release, his body shuddering as he spills his seed onto the worn wooden floor.