This one is so lame it'll make your eyes burn. Sorry.
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He lay awake in the dark, that dull craving deep within him begging to be satiated.
No. I can't do this, I promised myself I'd never let my urges get the better of me.
Another two minutes passed, and he could have sworn it felt like an eternity to him. He sat up abruptly, an intense expression on his face.
Forget it. I'm moving in.
He slipped one foot off the bed, then the other, careful not to wake his still-sleeping wife. In a flash, he was out the door and tip-toeing carefully towards the room straight ahead.
The room of weakness.
The room of temptation.
The room where desires were met.
But also the room where he had fallen. And if he had fallen once, he could fall again.
He was horrified with himself, but his hand reached out involuntarily and slid slowly over the object of his desires.
Suddenly, the light clicked on, and he froze.
Just then, he heard his wife. "What're you doing, James?!"
Unable to form a coherent excuse, he started stammering.
"I thought I told you to stop eating my bloody cookies."
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