Unbound, he lets his inhibitions fall away, his hand wrapping around his throbbing pene. He's a sculptor, his body the clay, his touch the artist's tool. Each stroke is a brushstroke, painting a picture of his desire. His movements are fluid, his body a canvas of tension and release. He's a maestro, his body the orchestra, his touch the conductor. With a final, powerful stroke, he reaches his crescendo, his body convulsing as he paints his masterpiece.