Sex is dirty, so they said. So, they turned off all the lights and copulated in thick silence punctuated with barely audible moans and sighs while they secretly acquired stashes of erotic magazines and movies, gawking at images and videos of nude personalities seeming to have the time of their lives.

They told us sex is dirty so we could keep our thighs closed, zips locked, noses turned up in disgust and minds smitten in horror at the mere mention of the word.

That was until we found out somehow that it gives much more pleasure than ten bowls of chocolate ice cream garnished with a variety of nuts and coconut chippings. "Surely, something so thrilling cannot be dirty," we reasoned.

Deeper and deeper we sunk into all kinds of sexual addictions. Our experiments began with stolen kisses that got deeper until we unraveled our clothing and couldn't seem to extricate our limbs from the clutches in which we had been wrapped.

The world around us seemed to shrink in size as we stared at the erotic display of skin, sinews and skills in different sizes, shapes and motions. The more we remembered that our acts were forbidden, the more we were sucked in to the vortex of unending scenes and fantasies. Then, the actors invaded our mobile devices and mailboxes until we began to relish waking up to the bold invitations from "Cutebitch", "HotSandy", "BigZack", etc.

Our guilt deepened as we transited to self-stimulation on days and nights when we were too shy, afraid or depressed to find partners. Then we found our palms reaching to forbidden zones even when we were in public places, among friends, family and/or strangers. It didn't matter anymore. The urge to feel good and better about ourselves was greater than the fear of being caught in public.

On sober days, we wished we could open up to somebody. Not anybody, but someone who cared enough to hear us without condemnation. One who wouldn't heighten our sense of shame by feeding us the lie that sex is dirty because in the throes of passion, it didn't feel dirty. It felt sweet, good, beautiful, exciting, like ice cream, popcorn and a good movie after a stressful day. Like a sizeable mound of swallow and our favourite soup after a particularly difficult test... And that was why we couldn't stop. No matter how much we tried, we just couldn't stop.

Dear young friend, sex is sweet. Even in it's perverse form, it still feels good, very good. I know that it helps you let go of some tension when you feel hurt after being unduly criticized or ignored by those who claim to love you. It's where you run to when you feel like the world has moved on without you and you're stuck in the same spot year after year. It's the balm that soothes you when you are faced with a deep sense of inadequacy. It began with an experiment but is now a consuming addiction because even when your heart says no, your body and your mind say yes.

Now, you have accepted that you like it. You also need to know that it is sacred. It's like that special couch in your sitting room; that one that only your dad was allowed to sit on. Yeah, like that special beer mug that only your dad was allowed to drink from. You watched with longing every time he drank from it. You could feel the liquid slide down your throat whenever he drank from it at dinner. It wasn't dirty, it was sacred.

So, you stole gulps from it whenever you could until... the day it slid from your palms and crashed on the floor. Your crime no longer hidden, you had to face the penalty for crashing your dad's favourite mug. You could have waited till you were grown enough to have your own special mug but your greed was greater than reason.

That same greed is the reason you experiment with sex. Call it curiosity, fun, whatever. Truth remains that instead of sex, you could be playing football, a video game, writing a script, visiting friends, learning to play the guitar or engaging in many other things.

So next time you feel like stealing that sacred gift called sexual pleasure outside the confines of marriage, take a stroll, play a game, talk to someone trustworthy like Matthew Femi Adedoyin, Stella Eyuruntela Ashe, Ajewole Ayodeji, Osagie Alex( 0803 666 6845) or anyone within your circle who understands and won't victimise you. S/he doesn't have to be a pastor to help you get over your addiction but must have a pair of listening ears and a heart that truly cares.

I want to see you on the other side of freedom from sexual perversion. I know you can. written by Alex O.

Ok sir. Those below me better heed to it.

the guy below me need help...

deadZONE:
your booking space on a useless post.... lmao

And wat made it useless

aunty no vex i go edit am

misspicy:

And wat made it useless

Nice write up OP,awareness is the key to helping the younger generation ovacome sexual perversion

deadZONE:
aunty no vex i go edit am

Better Btw am not ur aunty

misspicy:

Better
Btw am not ur aunty

ok my boss lady

seriously,i no read am

#ThumbsUpAnyway