The room is dim and warm, the red towel clinging softly to Bunny’s bare skin, shifting slightly with every breath he takes. Bunny lies on his back, legs parted just enough, hips lifted a little off the towel. His breathing is deep and steady, lips parted, eyes half-closed—he’s completely lost in his own rhythm. The small, shiny red buttplug is already nestled inside him, its curved tip pressed perfectly against his prostate, sending a gentle pressure with every tiny movement. Bunny’s hand drifts slowly downward; fingertips first trace lazy circles over his lower abdomen, warming that sensitive area. His other hand lingers just above his balls—stroking softly, lifting and releasing them lightly, each touch sending fresh ripples of pleasure through his body. His fingers reach his rock-hard length. He wraps them around the base in a warm, soft ring; index and thumb grip with a rhythmic, gentle yet firm hold while the other three fingers tease his balls—caressing, cupping, letting go, building wave after wave of trembling sensation. He starts long, slow strokes: smooth, wet glides from base to tip… pausing at the swollen head to circle with his fingertips, then sliding back down. With every pass more precum drips out, leaving small, glossy pools on the red towel. At the same time, he rocks his hips subtly, letting the curved tip of the plug press deeper against his prostate with each motion. His breaths quicken, moans growing deeper and huskier. Bunny doesn’t stop—one hand keeps stroking steadily while the other slides lower, fingers finding the base of the plug. He grips it gently and begins to pull… slowly… the smooth surface gliding out, the full, stretched feeling gradually fading, replaced by an aching emptiness and an even stronger craving. When the plug finally slips free, Bunny’s body gives a tiny, shudder. But he doesn’t pause—he wets his fingers with his own slick precum, making them slippery, then guides them back… teasing the rim first with slow circles, awakening every nerve… then pushing in deeper, bit by bit, until the curved tip settles right back against his prostate. The moment it hits home, a sharp electric wave shoots through him; his stroked length throbs harder, leaking even more. Now both hands find their rhythm: one continues the long, slick strokes—faster now, wetter, squeezing firmly at the head with every pause… the other slowly works the plug in and out, each thrust pressing that sweet spot, each withdrawal leaving him hungry for more. The movements sync perfectly with his breathing, with the rocking of his hips. Breaths turn to ragged whimpers, hips lifting and falling in time with the plug’s rhythm. The scent of warm skin, sweat, and slick arousal fills the room completely. Strokes speed up, the plug slides deeper, more deliberately… his pulse hammers at its peak. And then it all explodes: hot, thick, endless release… spilling over his fingers, spreading across the red towel in long, glistening streaks, dripping drop by drop into shiny little pools. Bunny’s body convulses in uncontrollable shivers, hips frozen in the air, the plug still nestled inside pulsing faintly with his aftershocks, breaths turning into broken, needy moans, fingertips digging into the towel. Slowly everything softens. His fingers lazily glide through the warm mess on his skin, giving one final long, slippery caress, leaving the plug gently in place. The room quiets—only trembling breaths and the soft, wet sound of skin against towel remain. The warm afterglow still burns across every inch of him, spreading through his body even in perfect solitude.