The room is filled with the sound of flesh against flesh, a symphony of solitary pleasure. His cock, hard and aching, is his instrument, and he plays it masterfully. He imagines hands other than his own, lips, tongues, as he brings himself closer to the edge. His body tenses, his grip tightens, and with a final, violent stroke, he comes undone, his seed pulsing from him, a testament to his self-induced rapture.