Fresh Milk, Here I Come

Under the watchful eye of the sun, a lonely soul decides to take matters into his own hands, quite literally. "Leite fresco, aqui," he murmurs, a naughty chuckle escaping his lips as he begins to pleasure himself. The room is filled with the rhythmic sound of his hand moving up and down his length, the smell of sweat and precum heavy in the air. His body tenses, muscles contracting as he nears his climax, a soft groan escaping his lips as he finds his release.

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