In the privacy of his room, a man donning a condom wraps his hand around his thick, uncut BBC. He strokes slowly, feeling the familiar rhythm, the friction of latex against skin. His breath hitches as he imagines a warm, wet mouth taking its place. He picks up speed, his grip tightening, knuckles turning white. His grunts fill the room, echoing off the walls, as he nears the edge. With a final, powerful stroke, he spills his load into the condom, panting, satiated.