Thadho, a man of few words, expresses himself best in the quiet solitude of his space. His hands, calloused from years of labor, are gentle yet firm as they explore his body. He starts at his neck, his fingers tracing the line of his jaw, before moving down to his chest, tweaking his nipples until they're hard peaks. His hand then travels south, wrapping around his thick, veiny cock. He strokes slowly, his eyes closed, lost in his fantasy. His grip tightens, his strokes becoming more feverish. His body tenses, a growl building in his chest as he comes undone, his cum splattering onto his stomach.