Michael Klein leans against the couch, fingers tracing the edge of his pants before slipping inside, his dark hair framing a face that shifts from frustration to release as he works himself open. The patterned bedding stays behind as he strips, sprawling on his back with legs raised, his lean body taut under the weight of his own hands, one gripping his cock, the other pressing into the mattress. The blue wall with its circular decals watches as he turns, side profile sharp against the light, his breath steadying only when the last of him is bare.
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