You try to deny it, but you ache for something real and thick, something you can’t replicate with toys or fantasies. Every time you harden you remember that craving, the longing to serve something alive and commanding, and it gets louder. You only understood how empty the fake was when you tasted the real thing.
I love that confession, I love the way you admit you need it. Watch me tease that need until you beg for what you’ve been denying, until your desire is an obsession I can use and feed.