Ceitu, a robust, silver-haired man, sneaks into the office restroom, his jeans straining against his considerable bulge. He locks the door, the sound of traffic outside fading as he unzips. His thick, veined cock springs free, already leaking with anticipation. He spits in his palm, lubes up, and begins to stroke, his grip firm, his rhythm insistent. The bathroom's harsh fluorescent light casts stark shadows as he works himself over, his grunts of pleasure filling the small space. His cockhead, red and angry, emerges from his fist, glistening with pre-cum, a testament to his growing excitement.