The room is dim and quiet, only the soft texture of the red towel and Bunny’s own breathing fill the space. Bunny is alone, completely alone. Lying on his back, head tilted slightly backward, lips parted, chest rising and falling slowly. No one is there beside him… yet his skin is already burning, as if invisible hands are caressing every inch of him. The red towel brushes against his bare skin with every tiny movement, sending little shivers across his body. Bunny’s hands move on their own—fingertips first gliding over his chest, circling the sensitive peaks of his nipples, then slowly sliding down his stomach, lower… pausing just above his groin. His breath catches for a moment. His length is already rock-hard, veins bulging, the tip glistening and slick. Bunny wraps his own fingers around the base, forming a warm, soft ring; index and thumb grip with a rhythmic, gentle but firm hold while his other hand hovers just above his balls—stroking softly, lifting and releasing them lightly, sending fresh waves of trembling pleasure through his body with every touch. He curls his toes, pressing his heels into the towel, hips instinctively lifting off the surface. One hand begins long, slow strokes: from base to tip in smooth, wet glides… pausing at the head to circle with his fingers, then sliding back down… each pass coaxing more precum, letting it drip onto the red towel in small, shiny pools. Breaths quicken, turning into soft growls. Bunny’s other hand now roams over his lower abdomen, fingertips tracing lazy circles just below his navel—combining the long strokes with those teasing touches, two different waves of pleasure crashing together, overwhelming him completely. The scent of skin, sweat, and raw arousal fills the room, heavy in every breath he takes. Bunny closes his eyes, tiny moans slipping from his lips. The strokes speed up—but never rushed—each glide deeper, more intense. When his fingers pause at the swollen head and squeeze firmly, his pulse hammers at its peak. And then everything explodes: hot, thick, endless release… spilling over his fingers, spreading across the red towel in long, glistening streaks, dripping drop by drop, pooling in warm little lakes. Bunny’s body convulses in uncontrollable shudders, hips frozen in the air, breaths turning into ragged, whimpering moans, fingertips clutching the towel like it’s the only thing keeping him grounded. Slowly he relaxes, fingers lazily gliding through the slick mess on his skin, giving one final long, slippery caress, savoring every last sensation. The room falls quiet again—only trembling breaths and the soft, wet sound of skin brushing towel remain. The warm afterglow still lingers on his skin, spreading through him even in the solitude. Bunny opens his eyes, a small, sweet smile curling on his lips… alone, but utterly satisfied, having flown high on nothing but his own hands.