Rhet Hengst grips his thick cock, his shaved head glistening under the light as he strokes himself, the veins bulging with every tight fist. A small device hums against his shaft, vibrating just enough to make his breath come in ragged gasps, his muscles straining as he lies sprawled across the bed. His tattooed arms flex with each pull, the skin slick with sweat as he works himself harder, his grip never letting up. The angle shifts, close-ups catch the way his fingers dig in, the way his cock twitches at the touch. No one else is here, just him and the relentless rhythm of his own hand.
