In his cluttered room, Chill, a lanky teen with a perpetual frown, can't help but notice the tent in his pants. He looks around, ensuring he's alone, then unzips, his hard cock springing free. He's been craving pussy, any pussy, but for now, his hand will have to do. He begins to stroke, his grip tight, his rhythm steady. He imagines his cock sliding into soft, warm flesh, his hips thrusting, his balls slapping against skin. He groans, his grip tightening, his strokes faster, until he comes, his body convulsing, his cock pulsing as it shoots his load onto the floor.