Noia's nights are anything but quiet. Once the house is asleep, he slips into his room, closing the door softly behind him. His hands, already eager, undo his pants, pushing them down along with his boxers. His cock springs free, hard and ready. He spits into his palm, lubricating his hand as he begins to stroke, long, slow pulls that have him arching into his own touch. His other hand tweaks his nipples, pinches and pulls, sending jolts of pleasure straight to his groin. He can feel his orgasm building, his balls drawing up tight, his breath coming in short, sharp pants. With a final, hard stroke, he comes, his body convulsing as he paints his chest with his release.