In the sterile, fluorescent-lit office restroom, Deltajhon1824 documents an illicit interlude. A suited figure, face obscured, slips in, eyes darting nervously before focusing on the task at hand. His tie is loosened, shirt unbuttoned, revealing a trail of dark hair leading down to his pants. He tugs at his zipper, freeing his stiff cock, and begins to stroke, the sound of wet flesh on flesh filling the small space. His pace increases, breath ragged, as he races towards release, his body tensing as he spills over, leaving a mess that he quickly cleans up before exiting, leaving behind only the scent of sex and the echo of his pleasure.