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werewolf
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his masturbation was largely mechanical: the way you beat a rug or fed the cat, or swore and sweated the water cooler into place. he thought of the worst, best, and forbidden and squeezed his thighs together, before he'd lose conviction, because he wanted to be done with it, wanted it to shoot far, past him out of his house out of the pull of gravity and time - which sometimes just seemed the same thing to him - and then out past the universe's edge. he was tired of the same old days and the same mess they created, all the while feeling there was something more in it all, in his semen in his life. some code he wasn't using. thinking of it this way suddenly made the guilt make sense.
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040413
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