It is not just the preppy button-down shirt, dimpled chin and messed up spiky hair that makes it so easy to picture thirty-year-old Donovan a decade earlier as a beer-guzzling, skirt-chasing frat rat gone wild. This cocky Casanova still has the demeanor of a college guy who hit the x-rated book store much more often than the library, and is just as ready to hump anything that moves as he ever was. The phrase “if it feels good, do it” might not have been coined by Donovan, but it surely is personified by him. We learn in short order one thing that feels good to him is riding his own finger, whether he is jacking off or eating pussy, and he also knows what it is like to be on the receiving end of something decidedly bigger than one of his own digits. Both as a top and as a bottom, Donovan is no stranger to all-male backdoor action either, though it is the eight thick inches he has in front that he loves best. And, in short order, as soon as we see that thick throbber, we immediately understand why.