A friend of mine has been told of the unfaithfulness of her partner, by her brother. She shared with me that she initially refused to believe the words of her brother about her long time boyfriend. She told her brother that he must be mistaken and that her lover was devoted to her, as she was to him. That the moon and the stars told her of his love for her and that nothing would make her believe otherwise. Her brother was angry and frustrated with her, with her inability to see the truth before her eyes; despite its bitter reality.

Is this not the way of women, to love unquestioningly? Is this not the way women are made? Whereas men do not possess this veil of love and nurture, which sometimes makes us blind. Men are easily aroused and seek forbidden pleasures outside of their known worlds. Men want strange and unfamiliar experiences to stimulate their libidos. Guys are ready with their things to stir the pot in a wife’s sister’s or best friend’s kitchen.  Boys believe in the infallibility of their sexual desires and this can be the undoing of marriages and families. Transgressing can lead to horrible and unforeseen consequences.

Might it not be better to watch a little movie on a screen? A sketch or clip of me doing things with my mouth and hands? Might it not make less ripples in the pond of life? Less splashes in the hearts of wives and mothers? Getting hard at the sight of my sex is not a sin. The thought of me, the thought of touching me, tasting me and dipping in, is far less a transgression and all mighty sin, than perpetrating it upon your wife’s best friend. The imagination is your private universe, a kingdom untouched by flesh and blood.

In this virtual world, flickering upon a digital screen, pixels of light dance in different colours; forming and reforming into images of Delilah. Siren’s songs are distributed through sounds of my breathing, as I stroke myself and labour toward a distant climax. My focus turns in, and if I might imagine you at home watching me; that is my private sin. A woman’s wetness is her natural state, as she seeks a higher horizon. The webcam captures the writhing state as I bleed saliva for the orgasm, which is on the tip of my tongue, just around the corner and almost upon me.

Helping Overcome Webcam Addiction