Solitude's Sweet Sin

Clothed in nothing but his own skin, he stands before the mirror, a voyeur to his own desires. His fist, a tight, slick vice around his hard shaft, pumps in rhythm with his ragged breath. The room echoes with the wet sounds of his pleasure, the soft slap of skin on skin, as he teeters on the edge, ready to tumble into the abyss of release. His body tenses, his abs contract, and with a final, shuddering groan, he surrenders to his solitary ecstasy.

• soloboy

• Unknown