In the quiet of his room, a twink finds solace in his own touch. He lies back, the carpet rough against his skin, his thong pushed aside to reveal his throbbing cock. He runs his hand along its length, feeling the velvet smoothness, the heat, the pulse of life. His strokes are slow, deliberate, drawing out the pleasure, his moans soft, his body writhing slightly with each pass of his hand. As he feels his orgasm approach, he quickens his pace, his grip tightening, his body tensing, until he finally finds release, his cock pulsing as it coats the carpet with his warm, sticky seed.