Is it the oil's fault he can't resist his own touch? He blames it, but we all know who's truly in control. His white body gleams under the soft lighting, the oil reflecting the dim glow. His big, throbbing cock pulses in his hand, slippery and eager. He moans, low and deep, as he brings himself closer to the edge. The oil, his own touch, the heat of the moment - it's all too much. He lets go, his body convulsing as he finds his release, leaving him panting and satisfied, blame or not.