In the quiet of the dawn, a man's hand wanders, finding his rigid morning wood. He grips it tightly, his calloused palm gliding up and down the length. His hips buck, meeting his strokes, as he builds towards release. The room fills with his grunts, and then, with a final thrust, he spills his load, his cum coating his hand and dribbling down his shaft, a testament to his morning indulgence.