the only thing i wanna do more than fuck you is watch you masturbate alone in your bedroom cos for some strange reason i have this delusion that the image of a boy jacking off in solitude
is the clearest window to the purest part of his soul and if i like him hard enough i get convinced that he’s special and that he must touch himself just like an angel fresh out of the shower wet eyes that sparkle
clean body glistenining representative of the sacred insides deserving to be worshiped i just want my face pressed against your chest where i can wait to catch the very first drop of sweat
but im convinced that if i could watch the way that you breathe when you jack off without even a single passing thought about my eyes fixated on your cock
that i’d maybe find some sort of enlightenment bearing witness to your somnolent sacrament your unphased libidinal fulfillment elevating my consciousness
i wouldnt ever need to touch anything else i could die in that moment and go straight to hell the videos in my brain just for myself i would treasure far more than my own health
at night i would pray to your hormones grateful for what they had bestowed candlelight vigils in honor of your eros for making my life meaningful