"Punhetão," he murmurs, his voice a low growl as he begins his intimate ritual. The room is dim, the air thick with the scent of his own musk. His hands, slick with oil, trace the contours of his body, lingering on the hard planes of his chest, the defined abs, before descending to his throbbing erection. He grips it firmly, his strokes long and slow, each one sending jolts of pleasure through him. His body responds, his cock swelling, his balls tightening, as he brings himself to the brink, then teases himself back, drawing out his pleasure in the sultry, solitary dance of self-love.