The Monologue of Masturbation

The man's naked form is a study in contrast, his body a temple of strength and vulnerability. His cock, thick and veined, stands erect, a beacon of his lust. He strokes it with a rhythm that's almost meditative, his other hand cupping his balls, rolling them gently. His breath comes in ragged gasps, his moans low and guttural, a symphony of his solo performance. The room is his stage, his body the only prop, as he dances the ancient dance of self-love, his climax a crescendo of raw, unbridled ecstasy.

• soloboy

• Unknown