In the sultry heat of his room, a lonely boy seeks solace in his own hands. His eyes locked onto his throbbing piroca, he begins to stroke, feeling the familiar rhythm of self-pleasure. The room fills with the sound of his hand moving against his slick skin, the scent of his pre-cum heavy in the air. His breath hitches as he feels the inevitable build-up, his balls tightening in anticipation. With a final, hard stroke, he erupts, his load painting his stomach, a satisfied groan escaping his lips.