Don’t Fuck My Daughter: Liza Rowe and Glen

We’re gonna talk about that whole “don’t fuck my daughter” scenario, and honestly, being in that room felt like walking a tightrope over a pit of fire. Liza had this sweet, almost shy energy that made my heart race, and I could feel Glen’s heavy stare from across the way, the air so thick with unspoken rules that it was practically buzzing. She finally made the first move, closing the space between us, and when her lips met mine, it was this electric shock that threw all caution out the window. I remember her hands sliding under my shirt, and the way she gasped when I pulled her closer made my thoughts go blank, every nerve ending alive as we fell into that forbidden rhythm, her taking control with a confidence that left me breathless.