RJM, a man of few words, lets his body do the talking. His hand, slick with lube, works his cock skillfully, teasing out every ounce of pleasure. The room is filled with the symphony of his wet, eager strokes and the occasional hitch in his breath. His eyes roll back as he nears the edge, and with a final, firm grip, he sends his load shooting out, painting his torso with thick, white stripes. He takes a moment to collect himself, then wipes up the evidence with a satisfied grin.