Francis Houde sits on the edge of a bed, his dark hair falling forward as he grips his cock with rough, steady strokes, tattoos on his arms and chest stark against his skin. Legs spread wide, he shifts between positions, lying on his back, his side, his stomach, each movement pulling his hand closer, fingers tracing the length of himself with deliberate focus. The underwear from Alvin Klein peeks out in one frame, the only hint of anything beyond the, unfiltered act of his own hands working him.
