The sun beats down on the cobblestone streets of Salvador, but inside, the young man is oblivious to the world outside. He is lost in his own world, his own desires. His body is a canvas, and he is the artist, painting a picture of pleasure with his touch. He is a symphony of sensation, his body a instrument playing a melody only he can hear. His fingers dance over his skin, exploring every inch, every contour. His breath comes in ragged gasps, his heart pounding in his chest like a drum. He is a slave to his own desires, and he wouldn't have it any other way.