I know how much you love to look at me. I can see your excitement bubbling to the surface as I move. I can smell your anticipation as I touch myself. You want to touch me too, but you can’t. You don’t deserve it. I know at times you wish you were attracted to nice girls. But you’re not. Your soul is set aflame over the ones that reject you, that humiliate you, that keep you from reaching out your hand and touching them. This attraction is your blessing and your curse. So sit there, boy. Keep your hands to yourself.

Look, don’t touch.

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