Cocksmith's Solitary Delight

In the grimy, neon-lit back room of a seedy bar, a lone figure sits, his cock out, hard and eager. He's not waiting for company, just the thrill of his own hand. His cock is a monster, veins throbbing, head shiny and slick. He spits into his palm, lubes up, and starts jacking, his other hand gripping his meaty thigh. His strokes are long, hard, his grip tight. He grunts, his body jerking, cumming like a fountain, painting his chest and the worn-out couch with thick, white streaks. He leans back, panting, his cock still hard, ready for another round of his solitary cock worship.

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