Solitary Sniper's Secret Solace

In the dead of night, the lonesome sentry stands guard, his duty-bound vigil broken only by the primal urges that stir within. His calloused hands, accustomed to the cold steel of his rifle, now grasp his hot, stiff cock. He leans against the wall, his body tensing as he pumps his shaft, the friction building with each stroke. The city's lights dance on his sweat-sheened skin as he nears his peak, his groans echoing through the empty streets, a symphony of relief and longing.

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