The house is still, the world outside none the wiser as he steps into the dimly lit room. His zipper descends, the sound barely a whisper in the silent space. He turns, the tip of his cock meeting the cool air, and lets go, the stream steady and sure. It's a private moment, a secret pleasure, a dance of man and liquid, the scent of urine filling the room, a pungent reminder of his solitary act.