Juan Rivero grips his cock hard, his knuckles white against the thick vein pulsing under his fingers, while his dark hair falls forward as he leans against the desk, the lamp’s glow cutting through the shadows. His smooth, muscular chest rises with each breath as he adjusts his grip, fingers tracing the head before he pulls back, the tension in his jaw the only sign of how deep he’s going. The small object in his other hand, something metallic, clatters softly when he sets it down, his focus locked on the slow, deliberate strokes.
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