As the moon casts long, dancing shadows through the window, a hungry man takes matters into his own hands. His cock, already rock-hard, throbs in his grip as he begins to stroke, his movements steady and sure. The room is filled with the scent of his musk, the sound of his wet, eager strokes. He can feel the pleasure building, his body tensing, his breaths coming in short, sharp gasps. With a final, desperate stroke, he comes undone, his cum pulsing out, covering his hand and the sheets beneath him in a warm, sticky mess. He collapses back, spent and satisfied, his heart pounding in his chest as he drifts off to sleep, dreaming of more.