Private Oakes

A bearded man in a military cap grips his own asshole with a steady finger while his arms stretch above him, the tight muscles of his back flexing under the light. His clean-shaven jaw contrasts with the dark ink tracing his ribs as he raises his legs, exposing the hole he’s already working open. The peace sign flickers between frames, but his focus stays on the slow, deliberate pressure of his thumb. No words, just the, unbroken rhythm of a man who knows exactly what he’s doing.