Tiago sits on a stool, his muscular frame taut with anticipation, before shifting onto the dark upholstery of a couch where he lies back, fingers tracing his own length. The camera catches him leaning on the armrest, a smirk playing on his clean-shaven face as he poses, his dark hair framing the tension in his grip. Every movement is deliberate, every touch deliberate, his excitement unmistakable in the way he holds himself.
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