Control freak chocolate spread
Ladies and gentlemen, I would like to present the precise structure of the chronicle of lust: in the middle of the
night, returning from a party and swearing a thousand times that it’s just a touch, simply to feel, on the tip of the
tongue, only once, and then giving in, full of longing, and disappointing yourself and deciding, without wavering
or doubt, that now the technique for abstaining is absolutely clear—there will be no more next time, and I mean
it for real.