You're back again, aren't you, my little desperate addict? I know what you're here for, to worship my digital pixelated ass. But guess what, loser? You won't even get a clear view. You'll strain those pathetic eyes, trying to glimpse the curves you dream of, but all you'll see is a blur. A blur that haunts your every waking moment, a tease that leaves you aching and frustrated. You're so pathetic, jerking off to a mere pixelated image. You can't help yourself, can you? You're addicted, weak, and totally under my control. I find it hilarious how a few blurred pixels can reduce you to a slobbering, desperate mess. Stroke away, my pet, and remember, you're nothing but a wallet and a toy for my amusement.