The Bulge presents an intimate, unscripted exploration of solo pleasure. No actors, no plot, just the raw, visceral dance of flesh and desire. A man, unseen but for his powerful hands, grips his heavy balls, massaging them gently. His cock, already engorged, twitches with anticipation. He strokes slowly, deliberately, his calloused fingers tracing the veins, the Ridge, the sensitive underside. His breathing deepens, syncing with the rhythm of his hand. The room fills with the sound of wet, rhythmic slapping, the smell of musk and sweat. He leans back, his head lolling, lost in the sensation. His body tenses, his abs clench, and with a guttural groan, he releases, thick ropes of cum painting his stomach.