In the dimly lit room, Donkeyydickk, the black masseur, begins his own kind of therapy. His hands, slick with oil, explore his body, but his focus is clear - his thick, veiny cock. He grips it, his large hand barely able to fit around its girth. He strokes, his eyes half-lidded, his breath growing ragged. The sound of his hand moving up and down his length fills the room. His muscles tense, his grip tightens, and with a low grunt, he comes undone, his cock pulsing as it spills its load.