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CONFESSIONS OF A MODERN-DAY LEPER

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I thought I had it all. I was lucky enough to have been born into what they used to call a ‘middle-class family.’ But I guess my mother was right; “what goes around, comes around.” I was about to have my own share of the bitter taste of discrimination. Unless of course I chose to hide who I really was, and live out my life in the shadows.

The fact that I was no longer welcome in this world only hit me when they banned me from flying. I used to sit separate from the other passengers, with clear signs all over the aircraft.  But at least I could travel.

I must confess that I sometimes fly ‘incognito.’ I hide who I really am so I can be allowed on the aircraft. But I can only sustain the charade for two or three hours, which automatically excludes any long-haul destinations from my travel plans. Oh, did I mention that I’m also banned from taking any form of public transportation, like trains or buses?
A few years ago a ban was put in place. Now I can’t enjoy a pint at the pub with my mates, or taking my wife to a restaurant.

I should say ‘ex-wife’ now, I suppose. The ones who really want something will find a way to get it and the ones who don’t will find an excuse. That was my wife’s excuse for leaving me: my leprosy. I am a modern-day leper, and the leprosy is my new long-life partner at this point.
The condition is curable but the truth is that I don’t really want it to be. The leprosy was my partner long before I met my ex-wife or any of the so-called ‘friends,’ who now sneer at me. I am an honest man, and I am unapologetically proud of who I am. As a matter of fact, I get an almost erotic pleasure out of my leprosy.

There: I said it! My leprosy gives me orgasms.

The only time I lied about my condition was when I was looking for a flat to rent.
No landlords (and I mean no one) will rent to a leper. Just see it for yourself; it’s the first line on any ad these days: ‘NO LEPERS’ and, ‘no pets’ is always the second (I am worth less than a dog!)
‘Are you a leper?’ the estate agent asked me.
‘No,’ I answered, perhaps a little too quickly.
I imagine every other leper in this country must do the same; otherwise the rate of homelessness on this island would skyrocket. We must live in hiding now, and I have to accept that this won’t change.
My family sent me to one of those conversion therapists; he claimed he could cure me. I was repulsed by the whole thing.
‘If you quit, you’ll be able to live longer and do all the things you like doing,’ he said.
‘Nothing gives me more pleasure than my leprosy doctor,’ I spat.
I’d rather live for only ten or fifteen more years and climax every day (multiple times, if I may add) than live out another forty years in celibacy.

I am addicted to this oral coitus that I practice. I love my oral dildo, and I always will.

 

 

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