The bearded man kneels in the sunlight, his broad chest glistening as he grips his cock while the woods blur behind him, his knuckles white, the veins standing out as he strokes himself. His dark hair falls forward, damp with sweat, and the yellow shorts he wears are pulled tight around his thighs, the fabric straining against his thighs as he leans into the motion. The air smells of pine and salt, but the only thing that matters is the way his grip tightens, his breath coming faster as he works himself harder.
