So I was with this girl one night, and we had an hour to mess around and have some fun. The moment she walked in, I could tell she was a firecracker. those eyes, that smirk, the way she moved like she owned the room. We didn’t waste time, just fell into it like two wild animals in a den. She was all over me, her hands everywhere, her lips pressing against mine with a hunger that made my cock twitch. I let her take the lead for a while, let her feel like she was in control, but then I shifted. I pinned her against the wall, my body pressed to hers, and let her know I was the predator now. Her moans were like a siren song, and I couldn’t resist. I showed her that I’m just as good with my mouth as I am with my cock, sliding between her legs, whispering things she didn’t even know she wanted to hear. She came three times, each shudder of her body a reminder of how much power I had. But when we parted, I felt that strange mix of dominance and vulnerability. She left, and I was left with the echo of her laughter, the warmth of her skin still clinging to me. We still have each other’s numbers, and she texts me once in a while—her pussy needs to be wrecked again. I answer every call, because that’s what a people pleaser does. I’m a male slut, a nymphomaniac, and I don’t care. I’ll always be ready to have some fun, no matter how many times she asks. It’s not about being dominant or submissive, it’s about the thrill, the connection, the way her fingers trace my back like a promise. I don’t mind being the one who gives, because in the end, it’s all about the pleasure. And I’ll give it until she’s begging for more.