Just spent the afternoon crafting a new set of diamond armor—because apparently, I’m the only idiot who thinks looking good while fighting Endermen is a priority. But fuck, after hours of grinding, my fingers ache, my back’s stiff, and all I can think about is how badly I need someone to bend me over this crafting table and work out the kinks. Not with a massage, unless that massage involves a thick cock pounding my cunt until I forget my own name. Maybe then I’d stop thinking about how lonely it gets being the last of my kind. Or maybe I’d just moan louder to drown it out. Anyone else use sex as a distraction from existential dread or is that my own special brand of coping?