Absolute Arid

Billy Brandt lounges against the colossal rocks, their rough edges biting into his back just enough to heighten the thrill. His hand wraps firmly around his massive tool, stroking with deliberate rhythm—slow at first, building to a fervent pace that leaves no doubt of his intent. Veins pulse under his grip; sweat beads on his brow. He teases the tip, circles it with his thumb, coaxing waves of pleasure that arch his spine. Faster now, breaths ragged, muscles tensing like coiled springs. Then it hits—an impressive climax erupts, hot spurts arcing through the air, painting the stone with his release. He slumps back, spent and satisfied, the echo of ecstasy lingering in the quiet.