He Can't Seed Me Vol 1 E1

Hazel found the letter on the kitchen counter. Low sperm count. The doctor spelled it out plain, like it was just another test result. Three months trying with nothing to show for it. She sat in that stiff chair and stared at the words until they stopped making sense. That night she pulled her skirt down over her hips and stared at her stomach in the mirror. Nothing was moving inside. She decided the only answer left was to cheat. The strip club sat just off the highway, neon buzzing like a cheap invitation. She paid the cover in cash and found a seat in the corner. Then she saw him—Kyle, bare chest shining under the lights, every move calculated to make somebody pay. She wasn’t someone anymore. She was a woman with a job that needed finishing. The bouncer walked her to a curtained room. Kyle followed. When he dropped the last piece of clothing, she stayed seated, knees tight. He crossed the space in two long strides. His hand slid between her legs like he’d done it before, with someone just as desperate. The music outside thumped. Inside the room, the only sound was the zip of his fingers opening her up and the wet noise they made working deeper. She ended up on her back on the vinyl couch, skirt hiked, panties torn to one side. Kyle pressed in slow at first, then harder when her hips shoved up to meet him. Every thrust pushed her shoulders against the armrest. She clutched his arms, nails leaving white marks. His breathing turned rough and hot against her neck. She could smell cheap cologne and sweat and the sharp tang of sex filling the air. When he came he held her open with both hands, hips jammed tight, emptying everything he had in thick, wet pulses. Hazel kept her legs wrapped around him, making sure nothing dripped free. She didn’t cry or smile. She just lay there, counting heartbeats, waiting to feel the first sticky warmth slide deeper. She left the club with his smell still on her thighs and a plan already forming for the next night she’d be empty again.