Soltero, untouched by another's hands, takes matters into his own. In the dim light of his room, he bares his body, allowing his eyes to feast on his reflection. His cock, a beacon of his lust, stands tall, begging for release. He teases it, milking it, feeling the pulse of his desire. His imagination runs wild, filling the void with phantom lovers, their touch as real as his own. His rhythm quickens, his body tensing like a bowstring. With a final, powerful stroke, he finds his release, his hot seed spilling forth, a testament to his unholy solo tryst.