In the throes of lonely desire, a man loses himself to the primal rhythm of his own touch. His hand, slick with sweat and desperation, strokes his engorged cock with increasing fervor. The air grows thick with the scent of his arousal, the only sound the wet slap of flesh against flesh. His breath comes in ragged gasps, body tensing as he nears the edge. With a final, urgent stroke, he topples over, his cock pulsing streams of hot, creamy cum that coat his stomach and chest, leaving him panting and spent.