In the quiet of his rustic home, Tio do Interior, a man of the land, takes a moment for himself. His rough hands, used to the tools of his trade, now serve a different purpose. He tugs at his cock, a beast of a thing, veiny and worn from years of use. His strokes are steady, his grip firm, a testament to his simple, direct nature. He's not one for frills or fantasies, just the uncomplicated pleasure of his own hand on his cock, a dance as old as time itself. His grunts fill the room, a primal soundtrack to his private ritual.