The room is filled with the sound of his own heartbeat, a primal rhythm that echoes his desire. He's alone, but his mind is a whirlwind of fantasies, each one more intense than the last. His hand wraps around his cock, the feel of his own flesh sending jolts of pleasure through him. He's a man on a mission, his strokes steady and sure. His cock is a scepter, his hand its loyal servant, worshipping at the altar of his desire. The room is filled with the scent of his arousal, a pheromone-laced perfume that only serves to heighten his lust. He's close, his body tensing, his grip tightening. And then, with a final, powerful stroke, he comes, his cock pulsing as it coats his body in his own, hot, sticky cum.