Rodrigo Urso, in the throes of a self-imposed exile, finds solace in the familiar routine of his morning shower. As the hot water streams over his tanned, chiseled body, he succumbs to the temptation of his own touch. His hand wraps around his growing erection, the friction sending jolts of pleasure through him. He leans against the cool tile wall, his other hand roaming over his chest, pinching his nipples, and tracing the lines of his abs. His strokes become more urgent, his grip tighter as he nears his peak. The sound of the water fills the room, drowning out his ragged breathing as he chases his release, his body tensing as he finally finds it, his cock pulsing in his hand.