Mike Carrera rubs it out

Mike Carrera stands in a garage, his heavily tattooed arms braced against a car’s hood while he works his cock with rough, deliberate strokes. The car parts scattered around him, wrenches, tools, half-assembled engine pieces, frame his grip as he rubs himself, his dark hair falling forward with each thrust. The way his muscles flex against the metal suggests he’s not just touching himself, but using it, like the garage itself is part of the motion.