‘I’m calling the paramedics. You want to tell me what happened now?’ She shook her head. Her face was red where I’d hit her. What is a woman t... you when it gets to this point? She’s more than something you love. She’s a part of you, an appendage, something you can’t lose or walk away from. A part of you in held in her consciousness, and if not fed with her love and attention, it sickens, suffers, turns black and gangrenous. It rots and infects you and you’re diseased and you die. That suffering. Of course, I lived at home with my parents and like all boys my age I had an obsession with the new kit between my legs. I remember staying up until the early hours of the morning, engaging in mammoth masturbation sessions. Having my family round meant I often had to tug when I got the chance, bash one out quickly here and there when I got a spare 30 seconds. But at night when everyone had gone to bed I would stay up late, stroking my cock for hours, building up to huge explosive orgasms that. More

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