Rusty loses himself in the moment, his hand gliding over warm flesh with steady strokes that quicken into a frenzy of self-indulgence. The soft rustle of sheets and his own ragged breaths fill the air as tension coils tighter, erupting in a rush that leaves him trembling with afterglow. That fleeting tingle of release hits like a spark, turning solo play into a deeply satisfying escape from the ordinary.
![[mix]Mr.Wang Han-3](/images/81/570.webp)
