A lone figure retreats to the sanctuary of his room, the weight of the day's repression lifting as he sheds his clothes. His hand wraps around his stiff cock, a soft groan escaping his lips as he begins to stroke. The room fills with the symphony of his pleasure, the sound of his hand against his flesh, the wet, hungry noises of his mouth as he bites his lip, lost in the rhythm of his own desire. His body tenses, his grip tightening as he hurtles towards the edge, his release painting his abdomen in sticky, white ropes.