Weekend Wank, Wank on the Weekend.
Over and over again, it comes but it doesn’t come with the force that I require, am I lazy? Am I too rushed, am I desensitized? Do I need to go back to 5 finger magic and put away the vibrating contraptions?
Wank at Work, well not at work, but Wank is Work, yeah…you get me. Wank at home means nothing any more, brings nothing, gives nothing, leaves nothing.
I took away my spontaneity, my place, my solitude, my love for myself.
Well that’s a load of absolute dribble right there.
I wank, it still works, they are as strong if not stronger than what I have had in past experience, I am empty in some regard…in that I need more than just the wank to get me off, I need sharing and I need love from myself and another.
It’s not the orgasm I crave or it is, but it’s the orgasm with intimacy that I want.
You know I had a dream the other night…I had a cock, it was made out of shit (literally) and it grew as I wanted to extend it, it grew like pinocchio’s nose when you told a lie. Perhaps I was doing the lying and really its just all shit? Anyway. That was it and I was trying to tell myself what exactly?
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