Solitary Sin

In the dimly lit room, a lonely figure, his identity shrouded, begins his private ritual. His hands tremble as he unbuttons his jeans, letting them pool around his ankles. His boxers follow, and his stiff, aching cock springs free, pulsing with need. He wraps his hand around it, his grip tight, his strokes steady. His breath hitches as he loses himself in the sensation, his body tensing as he nears the edge. With a final, desperate stroke, he comes undone, his cock pulsing as he paints his torso with thick, white ropes of cum, his body shuddering with the intensity of his release.

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