In the dim glow of his modern bedroom, where sleek lines of chrome furniture met the soft luxury of silk sheets, Anthony lounged naked on his king-sized bed, propped up against a pile of plush teal pillows. At 20, he was the epitome of youthful allure—a hot model with short jet black hair slicked back just enough to accentuate his sharp jawline, and those piercing blue eyes that could melt anyone watching. His body was a masterpiece: smooth, hairless skin stretched over moderately athletic muscles, toned from hours in the gym but not overly bulky, with just a faint trail of dark hair starting below his navel and leading down to the thick, throbbing 9.5-inch cock that stood proudly at attention between his legs. The room was his sanctuary, minimalist with floor-to-ceiling windows draped in sheer curtains, but tonight, it was his stage. A camera hovered above him on a tripod, capturing every inch of his exposed form for his eager online audience, the red light blinking like a heartbeat in the quiet space.

Anthony’s hand wrapped around his shaft, fingers gripping firmly as he began a slow, deliberate stroke from base to tip. “Oh fuck, yeah,” he murmured to the lens, his voice husky and low, laced with that sensual edge that made his viewers beg for more. “Look at this big dick, all hard and ready just for you. I’ve been thinking about this all day, getting myself worked up.” His blue eyes locked onto the camera, lips parting in a soft moan as he pumped his hand a little faster, the slick sound of skin on skin filling the air. He was already leaking pre-cum, the glossy bead crowning his swollen head, and he smeared it down his length with his thumb, making his cock glisten under the warm bedside lamp.

He shifted slightly, spreading his legs wider to give the camera a better view, his firm balls hanging heavy beneath. “Mmm, feels so damn good,” he groaned, his free hand trailing down to cup those smooth orbs, rolling them gently in his palm. The sensation sent a shiver up his spine, his abs flexing as he arched his back against the pillows. Anthony’s moans grew deeper, more passionate, escaping in rhythmic bursts—”Ahh ... oh shit, yes...”—as he picked up the pace, his fist sliding up and down with a steady rhythm. He loved this, the thrill of performing, knowing eyes were on him, devouring every twitch and throb.