The camera pans over the unmade bed, the discarded clothes, the faint smell of sex lingering in the air. The man, his body still glistening with sweat, leans back, his hand wrapped around his semi-hard cock. He's not chasing an orgasm, just the simple pleasure of touching himself, of feeling his length grow in his hand. He's in his own world, a world of soft moans and gentle touches, a world where he's the only one who matters. His hand moves slower now, his body relaxed, his mind at peace. This is his flop, his sanctuary, his moment of solace.