Ansuyas, in the throes of self-indulgence, loses himself in the rhythm of his hand. His cock, slick with precum, glides through his fist as he builds towards his climax. His body tenses, his abs contract, and with a guttural groan, he erupts, coating his stomach with rope after rope of cum. The room is filled with the scent of his musk, a testament to his intense, solo passion.