I want you to know, as a sexually repressed 23-year-old virgin, sending Anon asks to your inbox feels like confessing to a priest from behind a latticed wooden partition. "Bless me, Father, for I have sinned. I stood no chance against the Drow's cheeks. His eyes were soulful and his half-unmade pants harboured a half-mast. His arms were made to envelope a lover in a safe embrace. There was a darkness in him that pulled me in, and a soft vulnerability to him that lowered my guard, altogether breaking my resolve. Fondness and gutwrenching desire snuck up on me. Forgive me, Father. I did what I could, but I could not resist. Looking again and again."
As I'm sure many of you have noticed my inbox has become impossible to keep up with and so, there are many messages that I unfortunately miss in favor of not replying to them constantly and spamming people's timelines.
I did see this one now, though, and I am publishing it.
