As the sun sets, painting the room in hues of gold and crimson, the groom retreats to his sanctuary. His fingers tangle in the thicket of hair on his chest, drawing a path to the object of his desire. His cock, proud and uncut, stands at attention, awaiting his touch. He obliges, his grip firm, his rhythm steady, his gaze locked on the reflection before him, a dance of man and mirror, hair and flesh, pleasure and pride.