Mario Castelli, in a fit of rage and despair, turns to the only solace he knows - his own flesh. He roughly grips his flaccid cock, beginning a punishing massage, his movements fueled by anger and self-hatred. His hand moves furiously, his breath coming in ragged gasps, as he fights against the tears threatening to fall. The room fills with the sound of his harsh breathing and the wet, slapping noise of his hand against his cock, a symphony of his inner turmoil.