In the dimly lit room, a young man, alone with his thoughts, begins to stroke his lengthening verga. His hand glides effortlessly over the smooth, veined flesh, each pass coaxing a bead of pre-cum from the tip. He leans back, eyes closed, lost in the sensation. His breathing deepens as he picks up the pace, his body tensing with each stroke. As he nears the edge, he can feel the familiar warmth in his balls, the tingling in his spine. With a final, desperate grasp, he milks his verga, ropes of thick, white leche painting his abdomen.