Jack Wright leans against a carved wooden chair, his muscular frame flexing as he strokes himself with rough, confident strokes, dark hair framing a face clean-shaven except for the inked designs crawling up his arms. His tattoos ripple under the light as he grips his cock, fingers slick with precome, while his arms stretch behind his head in poses that make his biceps bulge against the ornate furniture. The white undergarments barely contain the tension, his hole glistening as he works himself open, the only sound the wet slap of his hand against skin.
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