The room is his stage, his body the instrument. He starts slow, a tentative touch, exploring every inch of his skin. His hand wraps around his cock, a tight, warm grip. He picks up the pace, his grunts echoing in the room. His other hand joins in, cupping his balls, rolling them gently. His body is a symphony of pleasure, each touch a note in his solo. He's close, his breath ragged, his hand a blur. With a final cry, he comes undone, his body shuddering as he paints his release across his chest.