It's hard for you to pick which part of me does the most damage to you. It changes day to day, doesn't it? The sheer volume of time you've spent contemplating my existence it damning enough. There's always something new. You want to think of yourself as somewhat evolved, but that's just a defense mechanism. Your cock's not special. You're not above this. Tits make you weak and stupid and easy to use. Still, it feels good to pay to get this off your chest. Confess, confess.