In the silent house, Denis' heart races as his hand wanders south, finding his aching cock. He teases it, feeling it grow harder, longer. He imagines the soft touch of a lover's hand, the wet warmth of a mouth. He pushes himself to the edge, his body tensing, his breath coming in ragged gasps. With a final, desperate thrust into his fist, he finds his release, his body shuddering as he paints the floor with his seed, his mind filled with the echoes of his solo symphony of pleasure.