In the solitude of his space, a boy bares all, his body a testament to his burgeoning manhood. "Masturbacion," he murmurs, a secret word that sets his heart racing. His hand, steady and sure, grips his growing length, his mind a projector of illicit images. He's a voyeur in his own mind, watching as his body responds to his touch. His breath comes in short gasps, his grip tightens, and his body tenses. He's a symphony of sensation, a soloist in the orchestra of his desire, his final note a silent, shuddering release.