Ivan's Solo Delight: Paja
Ivan's room is bathed in the soft glow of the setting sun, casting long shadows that dance with the rhythm of his hand. His cock, hard and leaking, throbs in time with his heartbeat, a steady drumbeat of desire. He strokes it slowly, firmly, his grip tight, mimicking the feel of a tight, wet cunt. His other hand cups his balls, rolling them gently, feeling their weight, their texture. He spreads his legs wider, giving himself more room, more freedom to move. His hips start to rock, pushing his cock into his fist, fucking his hand with abandon. His breath comes in short, sharp gasps, his moans filling the room, echoing off the walls. He can feel it building, the pressure in his balls, the tingling at the base of his spine. With a final, desperate thrust, he comes, his cock pulsing in his hand, his release coating his fingers, his palm, his stomach. He collapses back onto the bed, spent, satisfied, his body slick with sweat and come.