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He kept stroking through the orgasm, milking himself dry, body shaking as the fantasy lingered. Panting, dizzy, and still floating in post-nut haze, Julian grabbed his phone with cum-smeared fingers. The best shots were ready. He quickly selected the full explicit album—dozens of obscene nudes—and meant to send them to his mentor, Mr. Harlan. His thumb slipped. Sent to Damien Voss. The realization hit him like ice water two seconds later.