By the point of my return, I had been moulded into the image of a good, celibate man. I prayed daily. I was charitable. I improved. But as each day passed, I learned more and more that nothing really was going to change me. Do you know the horror of that realisation? To see the Devil reaching for you every night, to realise that you live for the moments Satan gifted me: dreams of men’s lips, their kisses, their touches, their cocks.
