Sorayyaa's shower becomes a sanctuary for his carnal worship. The water pelts his muscular form as he takes his rigid member in hand, a slow, steady rhythm building. His fist tightens, mimicking the grip of his fantasy, his hips bucking as he chases release. The steam-laden air fills with his grunts, the sound of his hand meeting his cock a primal beat. With a final, intense stroke, he comes undone, his load pulsing out, washing away in the streaming water, a sacred offering to his beloved Sorayyaa.