In the hushed, reverent tone of a confessional, our solitary sinner begins his verification. Bathed in the soft glow of his room, he sheds his garments, his body a testament to his desires. His hands, once wandering, now purposeful, trail down his torso, pausing at his throbbing cock. He strokes, he teases, he pleasures himself, his body responding with a language older than any scripture. His breath comes in ragged prayers, his body quakes with silent hymns as he nears his climax, his seed spilling forth in a testament to his solitary, sinful love.