Klay Barrister sits shirtless on the couch, his light brown hair falling over his forehead as he adjusts his grip on his cock, fingers sliding along the thick shaft before he begins to stroke himself. The American flag blanket pools beneath him as he shifts onto his side, legs bent, his body angled just right to show the slow, deliberate pull of his fist. Every position, raised, sprawled, leaning, captures the, unhurried rhythm of his hand moving, his breath steady, his focus locked on the motion.
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