Beating the Meat: Self-Pleasure

The room is filled with the sound of flesh slapping against flesh, a symphony of self-indulgence. His grip tightens, his movements becoming more urgent, more desperate. The scent of his own musk fills the air, a pungent reminder of his carnal need. His body tenses, his balls tighten, and with a final, powerful stroke, he releases, his hot, sticky seed spilling over his hand and onto the floor, a testament to his solitary sin.

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• jerk

• Unknown