Cielito de Color, alone and aching with desire, locks the door and strips down. His body is a canvas of sweat and anticipation as he sprawls on the bed, eyes closed, imagining unseen hands touching him. His hand, slick with precum, strokes his rock-hard cock, the other cupping his balls, rolling them gently. His breath hitches as he picks up the pace, his hips bucking, fucking his fist. The room fills with the sound of his wet, sloppy masturbation, his moans echoing as he chases his release.