B. boy, the lanky teen, retreats to his room, his mind filled with naughty thoughts he can't share with anyone. He kicks off his shoes, his pants following suit, leaving him in just his tight briefs. He strokes his hardening cock through the fabric, feeling the wet spot grow. He pulls them down, his cock springing free, already leaking precome. He spits into his palm, lubricating his hand as he begins to stroke, his breath coming in short gasps. He imagines being dominated, being told what to do, his body responding eagerly to the fantasy. His strokes become faster, more urgent, his grip tighter. He feels his orgasm building, his balls drawing up, and with a final, desperate cry, he comes, his cock pulsing as he paints his abdomen with his own sticky, warm come.