Camillo Beischel stretches across the bed, his tattooed arms crossed as he leans into the window frame, fingers tracing the glass while his legs splay open. The muscles in his back ripple when he rolls onto his side, one leg bent high, the other dangling off the edge as he grips the sheets. His dark hair falls forward, framing a face that shifts between lazy and intense as he shifts positions, hands behind his head, then gripping his own cock.
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