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He’s fire, and I’m a suicidal moth. I know he’s bad for me, but I can’t stay away.
I actually won an award once. I’d made it myself, but still. It counts.
Oh, fuck me. Now I’m conflicted. What if a donut a day keeps the doctor away?
My cock is becoming a national monument at this point.
“I am doomed,” I mutter, adjusting my dick in my pants once more. There’s nothing to be done, it seems. I am stuck with a hard dick for life. I have accepted my fate.
Sometimes us anxious people just need a calm guy to help us relax a bit.
