Dripping Wet 3

A man stands alone. Skin bare, muscles defined under the light. He touches himself with slow, deliberate strokes, savoring each motion. His hand glides over the shaft, the head glistening as he works it. He breathes deep, the room quiet around him, nothing but the sound of skin on skin. He takes his time, drawing out the pleasure, teasing the sensitive ridge and rolling his balls in his palm. Every stroke makes his cock thicken, veins rising along the length. He leans back, legs spread, giving himself over to the sensation. The tension builds. His grip tightens. His hips shift, pushing into his own fist. The release comes hard, thick ropes spilling over his fingers and onto his stomach. He holds still, breathing through it, cock pulsing in his hand. Then he relaxes, spent, the heat still on his skin.