Tick-tock, stroke-stroke.

As the clock chimes midnight, the lonely figure surrenders to primal urges, their breath hitching as they stroke their throbbing cock. The room is a symphony of forbidden pleasures, the ticking of the clock echoing the pounding of their heart. Their body arches, tensing as they approach the precipice, the room filled with the scent of their musk and the sound of their ragged breath. With a final groan, they tumble over the edge, their body convulsing as they coat their hand and the floor with their hot, sticky cum, the clock's hands spinning wildly as if marking the end of their restraint.

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