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Unintentional Cumjuring.

You hold your cock in your hands like a pent-up gorilla that’s just discovered his dick for the first time, pumping away with your bony coil of lubed fingers like you’re a coked-up employee at the Amish Lady’s Butter-Churning factory and you’ve got a long way and a short time to meet quota.

Halfway through brainstorming for way to smoke the bowl resting on the file cabinet to your left using one hand without breaking rhythm with your other, you remember the porn playing on your computer monitor just in front of you. Though you find it suddenly and quite incredibly boring upon its rediscovery, you feel far too lazy to lean forward, reach out your spare hand and click another link. Instead, in a strange way fueled by nothing less than a lack of motivation, you suddenly reinvest value in your imagination as the proper apparatus to deliver the necessary stimulus.

Your head swings back, your eyelids close, you sink into the chair, and her image pops to mind. You had thought of her yesterday and sent her a text to which she never responded. Looking at her in your mind’s eye, you want to ravage her. You imagine her thinner, like she is in those photos on her Facebook profile, and you imagine aggressive sex and that you are both enjoying it. At one point in the fantasy you grabbed her neck as you pounded your manhood into her, telling her that she was yours. Obediently, in a raspy, joy-intoxicated whisper, she echoes that you own her. Even outside the context of this fantasy, you say. She nods obediently, saying yes.

You’re high. Maybe that’s where that weird line, and the concept behind it, emerged from. Regardless, you said it, shortly afterward you unloaded in blissful therapy, and just as the orgasm ended there was a buzz and vibration from just in front of you.

It takes you a moment to realize its your cell phone.

It was such perfect timing, it seemed as though you had somehow ejaculated life into the thing. Things got infinitely weirder when you instinctively checked the phone and found that it was a text from her. The girl you were just jacking off to the thought of. The text just said hi, in response to the text you had sent her the day prior.

You then put the cell phone back down. You light a cigarette in shame.

You psychic sicko.

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