Samyramy's Hands: His Only Companions

Samyramy, a man of few words, retreats to his dimly lit room, the air thick with anticipation. He slowly unbuttons his shirt, revealing a toned, tattooed chest. His hands, rough from years of work, glide down his abs, pausing at the waistband of his jeans. He unzips, allowing his hardening cock to spring free, already leaking pre-cum. He strokes languidly, his grip firm, his rhythm steady. His eyes roll back as he imagines a faceless lover, their touch softer, their pace quicker. His breath hitches, his grip tightens, and with a low moan, he spills his load, painting his stomach with streaks of white.

• sexy
• handjob
• solo
• soloboy

• sexy