Rafael Gallo stands under the spray, his muscular frame slick with water, dark hair clinging to his shoulders as he grips himself with rough, deliberate strokes. The tiles behind him glisten with droplets, his fingers slick with precome as he works himself open, the shower’s steam curling around his bare, light-skinned chest. Every thrust is measured, his breath steady, the water washing away the last of his restraint.
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