The room is a blank canvas, devoid of any personal touch, save for the camera's cold, unblinking eye. The boy steps into the frame, his nervousness palpable, his cock tenting his jeans. He takes a deep breath, his hands trembling slightly as he undoes his belt, pushing his jeans down to his ankles. His cock springs free, long and uncut, curving slightly upwards. He wraps his hand around it, his grip tight, his strokes steady. The room echoes with the sound of his hand meeting his flesh, the scent of his arousal filling the air. He closes his eyes, his body convulsing as he spills his seed, his verification complete.