The Art of Self-Pollution

In a private, dimly lit boudoir, a man, unnamed yet undeniably desirable, begins his intimate ritual. His hands, slick with oil, trace the lines of his muscular body, pausing to tease his thickening cock. He strokes, slow and steady, building tension. His breath hitches, body tenses, and with a final, firm grip, he finds his peak. His cum arcs through the air, painting his torso and the plush carpet beneath in a symphony of salty release.

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