As the sun peeks through the window, our hung-over gay lover stirs awake, his morning wood tenting the sheets. He idly strokes himself, his mind wandering to last night's debauchery, the touch of his lover's hands, the taste of his skin. His strokes become firmer, more insistent, as he remembers the feel of his lover's cock sliding into him. The room fills with the sound of his hand moving over his rigid shaft, the scent of sweat and precum mingling in the air.