I think I realised I had a problem when I was walking back to the house of a man that had physically hurt me badly in the act of s3x, and I was willingly about to give myself up to him again. Despite being terrified and it making me tremble and sick, I somehow couldn’t stop myself, I had to have my fix.
Afterwards I felt used, I hated myself for what I had done, but that didn’t stop me. Married, attached, fathers, brothers of other conquests, it made no difference the more screwed up the better in the heat of the moment – the higher the rush, and the deeper the low.
