Built for Daddy. Only for Daddy.

Maxwell isn’t just working out.

He’s sculpting himself — into the picture-perfect fuck toy.

Every rep. Every stretch. Every drop of sweat in that gym?

It’s all for me.Not for the stares he gets.Not for the thirst in the locker room. Because while they can look… I’m the only one who gets to touch.

And the second he gets home?

He’s peeling those clothes off, still flushed from the workout, cock heavy, skin warm, muscles tight. Standing there in front of me — proud and desperate — he whispers it every time:

“This is all for you, Daddy.”

And fuck, he means it. That body? Mine. That mouth?

Mine. That perfect, eager little hole? All mine.

Maxwell doesn’t just aim to please —He exists to be owned.