Andrés sits on a chair with armrests, his dark hair falling forward as he grips his cock with rough, deliberate strokes, muscles flexing under his taut skin. The white sheets of the bed creak as he shifts, hand sliding down his thigh before returning to jerk off with a focus that leaves no doubt about what he’s after. Every movement is measured, every breath controlled, just him, the chair, and the relentless rhythm of his own hand.
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