In the dimly lit room, our lonesome stud sprawls out, his enormous cock already rock-hard and leaking. He wraps his big hand around his shaft, slowly sliding up and down, his grip tightening as he picks up the pace. His grunts grow louder, matching the rhythm of his strokes. The air is thick with the scent of his musk, the only sound besides his grunts the wet, sloppy noises of his hand working his cock.