In the quiet of his room, he becomes a comedor, a connoisseur of his own flesh. His hands roam, igniting sparks of pleasure. His cock, hard and eager, demands attention. He obliges, stroking it with expertise, feeling the velvet smoothness, the pulse of life. His eyes flutter closed, lost in the sensation. He's a soloboy, a heterosexual indulging in a private feast, a dance of one, a symphony of self-pleasure.