Solitary Ecstasy: A Cumshot Symphony

In the quiet of his room, he's haunted by her. His hand, a poor substitute, grips his throbbing cock. He recalls her thickness, her softness, her taste. His strokes quicken, his grip tightens. The room echoes with his lust, his grunts, his need. He's close, so close, her memory pushing him over the precipice. With a final, shuddering stroke, he comes, his cumshot marking his body, a silent cry for her return.

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