It's been awhile since I originally posted a link to confession site Not Proud (just hit the lust section since all the other ones are probably boring), but I think it's been long enough that this will either be good for anyone unfamiliar with the site or a good reminder for those who do. Some of the shit on there is pretty fucking sad, some of it is just fucked up, and a lot of it pretty funny. I found this one, which really isn't much of a confession, to be particularly poignant:

I wish there was a way to have your cake and eat it, too.

This one had a great closing line:

At first my therapist did not excite me. Skinny. also, totally sincere and sweet like my wife, who had been going to see her for years. After a few months I would start to get hard when ever she said more than a few words at once. One session she was all dressed up in a dress and a slit to mid-thigh. She kept shifting to cover her thigh and I could see her white skin and I am sure she saw my erection. All I could think of was walking across the room, pulling out my cock, and shoving it deep into her mouth. Fucking the words back into her.

The power of positive thinking:

When I get down, I remember the time I fucked two women in one day, and I feel that, all in all, I can't complain.

Somebody's pissed:

I got myself off the other night, it had nothing to do with you. Stop being all proud of yourself.

I'm going to refer you to our previous contestant:

I pretend my pillow is eminem and I fantasize about being his wife and sexing him passionately every night... in my fantasy we are expecting a baby boy... I've had this fantasy with many celebrities and whenever I get bored I alternate them, add kids, buy a new house or cheat on them with their best friends... my mind is so amazing. Imagination rocks!

Whoa, don't get too wild there, dude:

Went to a strip-club over the long weekend in montreal and got my self a lap-dance.

And finally, this guy is apparently too cool for school:

I used to break into my high school and beat off all over the place. In the middle of the gym floor, on the auditorium stage, on the big-titted journalism teacher's desk chair, in the girl's locker room, and the piece-de-resistance, on the principals desk. Security at that school was a joke.