Cream Filled Solitude

The room is filled with the rhythmic sound of flesh slapping against flesh as the man pounds into his own hand. His cock is thick and veiny, glistening with pre-cum and spit. He's been at it for a while now, his arm aching from the effort. But he can't stop. He's lost in the fantasy, his mind filled with images of tight pussies and wet mouths. He can feel his orgasm building, his balls drawing up tight. With a final grunt, he comes, his cum shooting out in thick ropes, coating his hand and the floor. He looks down at the mess, a satisfied smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

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