Quay Len's steamy suck fest in the toilet booth

Quay Len's heart races as he locks the door behind him, the cool metal of the latch sending a shiver down his spine. The small, windowless room is bathed in the harsh, unforgiving glow of a single bare bulb, casting stark shadows on the tiled walls. He leans against the cold porcelain, his breath fogging the mirror above the sink as he pulls his throbbing cock from his jeans. The sound of water running in the next stall echoes through the room, a reminder of the illicit nature of his actions. He strokes, his grip tight, his body tensing with each pass, until he's close, so close, when the sound of footsteps outside makes him freeze, his heart pounding in his chest.

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