You’ve kept these fantasies to yourself for so long, indulging in them only in the privacy of your own room, tucked shamefully under your sheets. Praying for the fantasies to go away each night with. Finger tips wrinkled from your sin now pressed together begging God to free you from these temptations. But every night you find those prayers unanswered as you turn off the light and slip your hands back in your pants. It’s an itch, an insatiable desperation consuming more and more of your time.
The fantasies have grown now, your filth calls to you in the bathroom stall. On vacation in a room full of others who could catch you if you fail to conceal. No matter how much touching you do, the itch won’t go until it’s truly scratched, you’ll only become more needy, more desperate. There is only one way now to free yourself from this guilt, it’s not to devote yourself to the silent man ignoring each prayer every night, who asks of you to be something that you’re not. But the man who will love you in your sin, the man whose temptation each night has grown at the thought of you.
So tonight, if you’re ready to scratch that itch finally, you’ll leave your window open this time when you go to slip your hand back to where it returns each night. This time your room won’t be that private sanctuary, it won’t be your refuge, I’ll slip into your room and touch you in all the disgusting ways you’ve dreamt about. No one is coming to save you but me. As I force myself deep inside of you, you’ll learn what it feels like to finally have your prayers answered.