In the quiet of his room, Farok surrenders to the primal urges that course through his veins. His cock, thick and yearning, stands at attention, begging for his touch. He obliges, his hand wrapping around the shaft, feeling the velvety smoothness of the skin stretched taut over the rigid flesh beneath. His strokes are slow, measured, drawing out the pleasure, the anticipation building like a storm on the horizon. His breath hitches as he feels the first waves of ecstasy crashing over him, his body convulsing as he paints his chest with his essence, a satisfied groan echoing through the room.