Solitude's Grip: AStroke of Ecstasy

In the quiet of his room, he begins his ritual, the creaking of the bedsprings his only accompaniment. His hand wraps around his rigid cock, the veins pulsing with need. He works himself slowly, savoring each stroke, his imagination running wild with fantasies. His grip tightens, his pace quickens, his body tensing as he approaches the edge. A guttural moan escapes him as he comes, his cock pulsing as he paints his chest with his hot, white seed. He collapses back onto the bed, his body slick with sweat, a satisfied smirk on his face as he catches his breath.

• masturbation
• soloboy

• Unknown