The blond, broad-shouldered man flexes in the dim light, his towel clutched low as he strokes himself with rough, deliberate strokes. His muscles ripple under pale skin, every movement deliberate, leaning against shelves, gripping the fabric tight, his face split between smirking at the camera and the focus of his own hand. The kitchen clutter behind him doesn’t matter; what does is the way his grip tightens, the way his jaw sets when he’s close, the uncut release he never holds back.
More galleries
