Rustie Port solo

Rustie Port sits in a black office chair, green patterned shorts barely containing his lean frame as he shifts his weight, fingers tracing the fabric before pulling it down. His light brown hair falls forward as he raises his arms, bracing himself against the chair’s cold metal before crossing them tight over his chest, then tossing them behind his head. The towel around his neck slips loose, pooling at his waist as he steps out of it, leaving only his smooth, bare skin and the slow, deliberate way he runs his hands down his hips.