I Need to be Better

I went through my work cutting loose threads from the sweaters. In a way, it was therapeutic. It kept my mind focused on doing what was right in front of me as opposed to what my body wanted me to do. It kept me busy. I was grateful to have this job no matter how much I hated it. I needed the money. It helped me to understand that even the smallest acts of self-control count for something when trying to be a better man. On the weekends, I displayed almost no ability to overcome my insatiable appetite. At work, I didn’t have the time to act upon all my lesser wants. I continued to cut the smallest of threads out of the sweaters’ logos to perfect the appearance of neatness.

Upon cutting the last piece of thread off the last sweater in the pile, I had a moment to relax since I was ahead of schedule. It was always good to be on top of everything I did. It gave me time to think about what I wanted to do over the weekend. Then it hit me. I only saw images of sex invading my mind as though it were parasitic. I became aroused at the mere thought of a shapely woman’s body. It took everything I had not to show the rest of the employees that I was aroused at all. After realizing I was erect, I hid behind the table as to not expose my erection to the others. Any sign of a loss of control could’ve easily cost me my job in a room full of women. I wouldn’t blame them either. I needed to do something to calm myself and avoid trouble.

I balled up my fists and tried to think of anything besides sex. The attractiveness of the women that worked in my department didn’t help matters one bit. I could see the curves of one woman’s buttocks as she bent over to pick up a roll of thread she dropped. I turned my head away as to make sure I didn’t get caught looking. I then noticed the breasts of another young lady bouncing up and down as she moved with a purpose over to the manager. I made it a point to stop staring at her as well. It was moments like these that made me wish there was an off switch to my sex drive. I didn’t exactly need to use it at this moment. It was nothing more than a nuisance right now which crippled my senses and was slowly taking over my rational thought. It was as though a demon was possessing my very soul, taking over every fabric of my character.

The thought of purchasing a sex doll rolled through my head because of a podcast I listened to yesterday discussing the subject of sex dolls in detail. I imagined myself bending the sex doll over and penetrating it repeatedly. I thought about what it would’ve felt like to have sex with one. Would it truly be like fucking a real woman? My rational mind didn’t want anything to do with it, but my sex drive wasn’t rational. It was a hungry beast. A monster that didn’t care so long as it consumed what it wanted. This addiction was the greatest enemy I’d ever known in my life. The worst part was it was a war within. It was pure torture.

I told my manager that I was going to the bathroom and walked as quickly as I could. The walk itself was slowing down my arousal. I was feeling less like an unhinged animal and more like myself again. That lapse of arousal made me think of how weak I was. It reminded me that my sex drive owned me and not the other way around. To have even thought of purchasing a lifeless sex doll, something I swore I would never touch due to having self-respect, frustrated me. I could not continue like this. I had to be in control of my life because whether I was in control of my sex drive or my sex drive was in control of me, I would still be held responsible for whatever actions took place as a result of feeding my sex drive’s hunger. I went straight to the bathroom’s mirror and looked myself in the eye. I said to myself, “I need to be better.”

Until the next daydream……..

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