Monsoon of Manhood

In the privacy of his room, a lone wolf succumbs to his primal urges. His hand wraps around his throbbing cock, fingers tracing the veins that pulse with desire. He strokes, slow and steady, his breath hitching as pleasure mounts. The room fills with the scent of his arousal, a heady mix of sweat and pre-cum. His grip tightens, his strokes quickening, until with a final, desperate thrust, he spills his load, his cock pulsing as rope after rope of cum coats his hand and drips onto the floor below.

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