My private lust is a wild beast within me. Only the power of Christ can kill my animal instincts. I call it the “sticky beast.” If I dare to touch that which is not mine, I give the beast its power. He oozes through the pores of my hands and sticks to the object of my sinful desires. It’s hard to shake it off. Like the slime of a slug, the sticky beast does not easily wash away from my graspy fingers. If I refuse to touch what I cannot have, the sticky beast cannot harm me or anyone else I touch.