Strokes of Solitude

The bathroom, a sanctuary for his secret desires, is where he retreats. The tiles cool against his skin as he stands, naked and exposed, under the harsh light. His hand moves, a dance of sorts, as it glides up and down his length. The friction builds, his grip tightens, and with a low moan, he spills forth, his essence swirling down the drain, a private, intimate moment in the solace of the shower.

• punheta
• soloboy
• banheiro

• Unknown