It’s curious how recognizing a mental problem rarely leads to resolving it.

I’ve long been aware of my issues with sexualized content and sex itself. The addiction creeps in unnoticed, weaving itself into the fabric of daily life. At some point, you realize your brain is operating in this framework on its own, as if your conscious self has taken a backseat. It becomes a reflex — a response to stress or boredom. Pause at work? Why not scroll through some porn GIFs. Bad news? Escape into erotic roleplays or casually browsing high-end escort catalogs. For what it’s worth, I’ve never crossed that line and booked one, but the ritual feels as real as the act itself.

What’s left for a happily married, family-oriented man in his late 30s with a dream job and a stable life? Reflecting, endlessly, and trying to rein in the addiction. And I’ve tried, believe me. Cutting out all porn and sexualized content? Cold turkey! Done that. After a month and a half, my mind was reconstructing sexual scenarios out of the most mundane situations, and every passing woman seemed like a goddess. Relapse.

Exercise and meditation? They’ve been a compulsive part of my life for years, as ingrained as brushing my teeth. In my case, I can’t say they’ve made a dent. Hobbies? Sure, I’ve picked some up. But they don’t stop me from slipping into the endless fantasy world when a trigger hits. Relapse.

We could go down the list, and I’d have a counter for every suggestion. Don’t get me wrong — there is some effect, and I’ve made progress, inch by inch, toward controlling the addiction. But with every new relapse, my darker side finds more elaborate ways to manifest itself. I’ll admit, there’s a strange fascination in observing it. I smirk to myself when I feel the inevitable approaching and think, “What now?”

Still, I remain a loyal husband. I’d like to think I’m an exemplary father. But the darker side of me — those boiling desires are always poised, waiting for a convenient trigger to unleash them. And as a passenger in my own mind, I can only watch, wondering which line I’ll cross next.

Take today, for instance. Business trips are always a minor test. After an exhausting day of meetings, I can’t just fall asleep, right? After all, tonight I’m “free.” Most likely, I’ll end up in my room, spending an inexcusable amount of time chatting with strangers online, diving into a chaotic mix of porn and dirty conversations.

Or maybe this time, I’ll finally cross the line. Otherwise, what were those hours of combing through high-end escort profiles for? All those bookmarked pages and saved profiles. Perhaps it’s time to put that knowledge to use, to let the addiction justify itself.

For now, I’ll head to the bar on the top floor of the hotel, hoping that someone — a fellow addict, just for tonight, might give me a sign, some unspoken signal that she’s open to connection.

In the end, recognizing a mental problem rarely leads to resolving it.

—

Thank you for reading. I’m proposing a realistic (or close to it) scene based on a prompt above. Smut is important, but I’m equally interested in exploring whether the protagonist can act on his hidden fantasies and the moral and ethical struggles that come with it.

I want to dig into the complexity of his inner turmoil — his internal voice clashing with his external actions.

Limits: vore, gore, toilet play, feet, diapers, taboo, pain, and anything illegal.

If this resonates, share your kinks and a brief idea of how your character might approach this. I prefer to play as myself and in the first person. I’d be happy to provide a more detailed description as we go. Let’s brainstorm.

Take your time with your response. Since I’m aiming for an ongoing format, a detailed and unhurried approach would be preferable. I’d be happy to discuss expectations regarding the length and frequency of messages separately.

DMs or chats are welcome