The place you climb out of, to dial digits and words, seems curious, if a bit dark. I’ve spoken to men on bipolar benders, with wives that wait at home, while they cull Craigslist for yet another cock to suck, seeking My input on selection. Their wives, nonconsenting to the risk brought to bed. These secrets are hardest to keep. You know you’re doing something very bad…
Most men who call Me merely fantasize about that forbidden place. It’s the main reason many call – they choose not to act out their dangerous fantasies, and settle into the warm nest of My mind. To scratch an itch, where no one knows them. We are anonymous, which is part of your thrill. No one, you know, knows. You zip up your pants, pay your fee, then back to safe vanilla homes, where you’re just as normal as anyone.
Yet, I know.
Long ago, I stopped asking, “Why?” with strange fantasies of men. Your tales and yearnings, fascinating for sure… yet *what* starts this compulsion, and how has your mind remapped, to get innermost satisfaction, right there. In that awkward place.
Your deep secrets are what keeps Me logged in most days. I’m fascinated about your particular fixations. I keep notes on each of you. There is proof somewhere, outside our voices, that you are named Steve, you’re a sex addict, and you’re on a 24 hour masturbation bender, huffing poppers and hoping like hell I'll allow your release. I wrap you up in Louis Vuitton (your favorite), big black buttons, the organza you crave, right before I describe the next thrust of your defilement...
Weaving webs, My voyeurism continues… paid. Good work, if you can get it.
