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I cannot bake in front of him because the domesticity just makes him horny and only half of the ingredients actually end up in the oven.

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I don’t actually like being scared. I can’t sit through most horror movies, I can’t handle “death-defying” roller coasters. I jump about ten feet in the air if someone sneaks up on me. But, for some reason, some of the sexual situations I enjoy are probably about five times more risky and fear-driven than any of these things. And, oddly enough, I can handle them just fine.