The neon lights of Mexico City cast a kaleidoscope of colors onto the man's sweat-kissed body as he masturbates furiously. He's a stranger in the sprawling metropolis, a lone wolf howling at the moon. His hand moves with a rhythm as old as time, up and down his rigid cock, the friction building, the pressure mounting. The city's energy courses through him, its heartbeat echoing his own. He pictures the city's women, their eyes filled with desire, their bodies open to him. But for now, it's just him and his hand, a primal dance in the city that never sleeps.