Under the faded glow of a bedside lamp, a lonely man from the West unzips his jeans, revealing his engorged member. He begins to stroke, slowly at first, then with increasing urgency. The room is filled with the sounds of his pleasure - the slap of skin on skin, the ragged breaths. His hand works feverishly, coated in his own slickness, until with a final grunt, he comes undone, painting his stomach with his hot, sticky load.