Bernard, in the throes of self-love, thanks the heavens for the gift of his own touch. His hand moves expertly, his body writhing in appreciation. The room is filled with the scent of his musk, the sound of his wet, wanton strokes. He imagines the many pleasures he's grateful for, his body tensing as he nears his peak. With a final, thankful cry, he spills forth, his body shuddering in release, a testament to the joy of self-gratification.