GET YO LIFE!!!!

Dan

He doesn’t flirt; he breaks. He’s the one who finds the “good” ones and opens up their guilty tight cheating hole. He teaches rhythm: short, heavy strokes that make I shouldn’t become deeper.

He likes the sound of cheating when it’s breath, likes how shame makes a hole cling tighter, likes ending it the same way every time—breeding them quiet and holding them plugged on the base while the whimper turns into relief. Word gets around: Dan sets them on his lap, makes them say it, finishes raw, and they stillcome back because guilt screams when he’s gone and shuts up when he’s in.

So when you show up—new to the circle—he’s patient but fast. A laugh. A steady hand. A door that doesn’t close. He lines you up and pushes, inch by inch, until he’s bottomed out in your bed, hips glued to yours, your hole milking around all of him, needing more. He keeps you there—deep, still—thumbs stamping you down that last inch until your breath breaks.

Dan’s mouth touches your ear, voice low and sure, the reputation distilled to a question he’s asked a hundred times and always gets the real answer to:

“Be honest,” he murmurs, grinding you flat at the deepest point.