Bashful

Bashful blushed. There, right there, Snow White whispered hoarsely. Lower, deeper, faster, she moaned. My finger is cramping, Bashful said.
He woke up in a sweat. The same dream every night. He was ashamed and disgusted. He needed to confess. Sneezy had mucus problems and Grumpy didn't want to be bothered. Snarky, the eighth dwarf, mounted a verbal attack every time Bashful approached.
All of this was so wrong. A beautiful young woman working and slaving for seven little men. So impulsive were these urges, he often sneaked away from the mine and went into the bushes and did unspeakable things to himself.
He could never reveal his demonized lust to Snow White. She would shun him forever, forcing him to do his own laundry. Why was he so shy?
One night, after tossing and turning, he could take it no more. Bashful ran out into the woods, not sure he would ever return. In the moonlight, he came face to face with the most beautiful creature he had ever seen. Big eyes, soft skin, so innocent.
He named it Bambi, and from then on all of Bashful's needs were quite satisfied.