Humour | Sexuality | Sex Matters
The Hidden Truth: Why I Need Your Help to Keep My Secret Safe
An unusually intimate bequest
I need a wingman, bosom buddy who I can trust with mammoth stuff. Keeper of my double, no — triple-locked secrets; burn after reading, cross your heart, hope to die a painful death.
I have urges, sure I do, I’m only human with a heart, a pulse, desires, and cravings. Nothing to be ashamed of, we all do it, (and no Sister Bernadette it doesn’t make you go blind, but I can’t yet verify whether I’ll end up burning in Hell). If the almighty didn’t want me to touch them, why did he plant them on my chest, within reach of my two hands?
Anyways, the craving started during puberty, along with the curiosity. Why did hair grow here? What did stroking that feel like? Now this was moist, how many fingers could … well you get the picture. Teenage experimentation, we’ve all been there, don’t try to deny it.
A few years after that I began to make online purchases. The internet is excellent for maintaining anonymity (don’t forget to clear your search history) and the sites I trawled boasted discretion: brown paper packaging, concealing the return address, credit card payment acceptable.
