Her name was Dannii.
I didn’t know that yet, but it already explained a heck of a lot of things. Like every girl called Dannii, or at least every girl I ever imagined being called Dannii, she was slightly taller than usual, had long, straight, blond hair, a fit, sporty body and a face that begged for a bucket full of the stickiest cum to be thrown all over it.
Dannii was looking at me. That was a strange realization, ’cause I wasn’t necessarily the best dancer, nor did I run around topless showing off my crazy muscular body, like some of the other guys were doing. She ignored them and looked at me once more, then turned away and shook her hips. Continue reading “Dannii, the drunkest Russian slut ever”