by Jay Kerk
“I didn’t particularly know how to massage feet, but she gave me instructions along the way. After some time, she took off the bra from under the cotton shirt, and I went ballistic inside. Bells and fireworks. The bra resembled one of my mom’s, I wanted to examine its details as it rested next to me on the floor. ‘Focus boy!’ she yelled a few times, and her deep voice filled the room.
“She lit up one of her cigarettes and put a plastic filter on it. I just couldn’t take my eyes off her breasts, each one hanging toward a side on her body, and the nipples protruding through the shirt.”
Dr-Anna45: “What was the time? Did you have a curfew?”
“Lunchtime, around two or three. I remember it very well because I was starving. No, not really. I usually spent Saturdays with the neighborhood kids, and we were on the street ‘til it got dark.”
Dr-Anna45: “So what happened after that?”
“She took off her pajamas and asked me to do the same as I was doing to her feet on her inner thighs. She even got me a chair and placed it facing the sofa. She wore blue cotton underwear.
“After some time, she asked me what I knew about that area, and whether I wanted to become a man. It sounded so absurd to hear her say become a man.
“I told her what I knew. A man and a woman kiss and afterward the man sees the boobs and kisses them, and then they hug, and people call this sex. And she broke into laughter. She laughed so hard she coughed, and her face turned red.” I sent a laughing face.
Dr-Anna45: “LOL.”
“She told me to keep rubbing her thighs, and later we’d do that. After a few minutes, she instructed me to go up to her crotch, and I did. One friend at school had told me the area was important, but I didn’t believe him. For a long while, I thought some men preferred either the boobs or the vagina.
“She instructed me to rub her as if I was scratching an itch but not with my fingernails, but with my fingertips. On top of her underwear.”
Dr-Anna45: “How did you feel?”
“Well, I liked the experience; I am happy and proud I got involved physically with someone at such an early age.”
Dr-Anna45: “No. How did you feel at the moment?”
“I don’t know what you want exactly. I felt nothing. If this answer satisfies you.”
Dr-Anna45: “You must have felt something. Did you enjoy the act? Did it mean something to you?”
Dr-Anna45: “Was it okay for you to do something without knowing what it was?”
Fuck that, again with the diagnoses. She wanted to say abuse, molestation. I decided to lie to her, I would even tell her Ms. Margaret hurt me, deeply.
“We expect too much from the people. This happened over twenty years ago. She didn’t know any better, and her love and admiration drove her to set up the relationship.”
“By the way, I didn’t finish. I’d appreciate it if you would wait ‘til the end. Afterward, we can discuss what the relationship meant and whatnot.”
Dr-Anna45: “K.”
“I felt her panties getting wet, and she took them off. She pointed at the area where I should focus on. The hairy pubic area smelled a little like fish. I continued, and after some time she shivered and made sounds.”
“I didn’t know back then what an orgasm was. While coming, she grabbed my wrist and squeezed causing me some pain. She shouted, ‘Go in circles! Circles, you dumb boy.’”
“I broke into tears. Suddenly she stopped and adjusted the way she was sitting. She consoled me and asked me what was wrong. I told her I hated the hair on her vagina, the fish smell, and that she squeezed my wrist. She promised the next time she would clean up the area, but right then I had to continue the rub. Otherwise, her tutu would be sore.”
Dr-Anna45: “Tutu. A cute name. Hehehe.”
“We started again, and when we finished, my hand was all wet and smelly. Disgusting. I thought I would leave and never come back. But she put on her panties and kissed me, and she took my hand and placed it on her breasts. This was my first time touching breasts, and they were such big ones, too. Amazing. ‘Your turn,’ she said, and she took off my pants.”
Dr-Anna45: “Wow.” With a surprised emoji.
“Once she saw my penis and my pubic hair, she chuckled. She said it would grow soon and the hair would change. She started doing things with her mouth to my penis, and she sat me on the couch. She licked and sucked ‘til I also quivered and shot something out of my dick. The ejaculate was a transparent liquid. I asked her if it was pee, and she explained everything about intercourse, pleasuring the partner, semen...”
Dr-Anna45: “And did you leave?”
“She told me not to tell anyone because she had a lover living abroad and it would make a problem for her. And she said I was her secret young lover here.
“I told her she officially is my girlfriend.”
Dr-Anna45: “Well. I’m speechless. How long did this go on for?”
“Three years, give or take. She taught me how to treat a lady, intercourse, and many other things. Later she gave me alcoholic drinks, sometimes pills, and she would let me try her cigarettes. She gave me a nickname, Bliss Giver.”
Dr-Anna45: “I’M SPEECHLESS. Fuck.” Angry face.
“What? You want to call her a pedophile as well?”
Dr-Anna45: “One sec. What were the pills for?”
“I don’t know. We used to take so many kinds. Some to make us feel better, some to strengthen my penis, and others were for her only.”
Dr-Anna45: “I can’t accept her. I accept you, because you have been through a lot, and you’re reaching out. But not her. I know you, and I don’t know her. Hell, no.”
Dr-Anna45: “I’m not afraid to say she is a pedophile. And a nasty one. And I think you are what you are because of your past, specifically this childhood experience with her.”
Dr-Anna45: “She is the reason you have your preferences, and you do what you do. If you must be mad at someone, be mad at HER. A fucking PEDO.”
Again with the insults. I barely kept myself together, but this bitch didn’t make it any easier.
“Why can’t you say or admit she loved me? Why not? Can’t you consider the possibility? From my point of view, this was a relationship like any other. Like when you see a twenty-year-old man with a sixty-year-old woman.
“Maybe she is the reason. We can’t be sure.”
A minute or two passed before she sent something.
Dr-Anna45: “Let’s agree to disagree....”
“Anna, again, this thing called pedophilia is a new concept, not even a hundred years old. We expect teenagers to sleep with each other, but we can’t accept they sleep with adults. Simply idiotic.”
She sent a neutral face emoji.
“Your turn. There’s no benefit in arguing.”
Dr-Anna45: “I lost my virginity at sixteen years old. We had been dating for six months, and we had done a lot of stuff and had beautiful orgasms, but not intercourse.”
Dr-Anna45: “He was a year older than me, and we had a lot of fun as a couple. I remember a lot of laughter. Then we picked a weekend to have sex.”
Dr-Anna45: “We slept together, we came in less than four minutes. The rest of the weekend was amazing. THAT is a relationship.”
“Are you trying to insinuate something? Comparing my experience to normalcy?
“You’re obsessed with normalcy and social order.”
Dr-Anna45: “Well, only sharing the truth. No insinuation. This is my experience and my history.”
“By the way. Your story is not juicy, but good enough.”
Is she telling the truth? Anna might deceive me.
“I feel like I’m being labeled a victim, and I don’t believe I am one. You want me to be a victim.”
Dr-Anna45: “Well, I didn’t label you. You just did.”
Yeah, fuck you. I set my status to “Unavailable,” knowing that would make her angry. Control freak.
A few minutes and a message alert went off. Dr-Anna45. “Listen, I’m sorry. I will
respect your perspective. Come back on.”
I reset my status after five minutes.
“Anna, you’re single-minded, and you think on one level only. Guess what? I am testing you. I made up the whole story.”
“I knew that you’d assume it was the reason for how I am.”
“I am what I am because of my genes and my destiny, like many other millions who were hunters and killers over tens of thousands of years.”
No response after a couple of minutes.
“We’ve reduced seventy or eighty thousand years of killing, of marrying and fucking at any age, to the norms we’ve only had for the last eighty years. THAT is absurd, not the other way around. Your whole doctrine of science differed back then, and now it labels the warriors like me, who helped shape society into its current state.”
No response. Wow. Either she was seeing the truth for the first time, or she was fuming. I continued.
“This civilization has had warriors since we were in tribes. We waged their wars and made their enemies shit their pants with fear. And now civilization is trying to retire us.
“If I’d told you I lost my virginity at thirty or thirty-five, you would have said the reason behind my sexual preference is caused by the repression of not having lost my virginity earlier.”
I saw her typing, finally.
Dr-Anna45: “I understand, but we progressed. There’s no more need for violence and wars. I want to point out that before I argue with you the relevance of rape and sexual relationships with underage girls.”
Fuck you, bitch. I’ll talk to you in your language then. “I see your point, but I’m sure the current way we live is unsustainable.”
Dr-Anna45: “What if I said you can stop, and you can change, and you can love someone with whom you can age and grow old?”
“Let’s see. We can discuss face to face, it will be different. Trust me.” A laughing face emoji. “Got to go, speak to you later. I’ll teach you about the elderly in our society.”
I had to return to my business. So much going on. She finally opened up, I knew sharing my stories would change her opinion about me. Soon we would meet, and I would have my revenge.
CHAPTER 7:
BOREDOM
I was still bored. There wasn’t much to do. My interest in the cameras stagnated, and I wasn’t getting my way with the tenants. I wanted to barge in, collect their stuff, and throw it all away. Kick them the fuck out. The fuckers weren’t acting how they should have been!
I put on a new outfit. Each item costing a few dollars, intended for onetime use, and bought in cash. I prepared my backpack. And by noontime, I took in deep breaths and headed out on foot.
Moving briskly, I covered three blocks in no time. After a few attempts, I found an open car with the keys hidden in the sun visor. What weak, self-loathing person left their car unlocked with the keys inside? I knew who it was, someone unworthy of living, unworthy of breathing.
I headed back to an alley next to the university campus. The foot traffic in this place was slow, but I hoped a nice piece of prey would get caught in the trap. I placed three cameras at different angles, front, back, and sideways. These were of the type used to record an accident or an interaction with law enforcement.
I parked the car close to the wall, a few yards away from the dumpster, and at a reasonable distance from the road. I could start the car and drive out of the place in less than a minute. I’d probably return the car before the fuckers woke up. Cap and sun shades on, I put the car seat backward and took out a magazine.
I unzipped and pulled down my jeans, folded my shirt back to expose my belly. I was already erect from the rush, and the memories were turning me on as well. A decade ago, I used to do this a few times a week. However, I evolved into a different man now. I had been blessed by the knowledge of my superiority.
I waited for some time. A couple of delivery guys on motorcycles passed by, then an old lady. I pulled my clothes up when they passed. My frustration grew, and I hit the steering wheel to flush out some of my anger.
What if today was a vacation for the university? Like Presidents’ Day, or a break. Don’t doubt. Doubt is the enemy. I hid the cameras; the cash was ready, and no windows overlooked the car... Breathe. I undid my clothes and returned to my ready state.
The profile of the girl I waited for was an under-achieving student with a cheap regard for life, no class, and low self-esteem. And she must be beautiful. In the past, anyone would do. I looked for the reaction; I longed for a giggle. Now I wanted the perfect prey. I wanted society’s deviant to jump in next to me and do a quick one. Like mammals who were so activated by the sight of sex, they started copulation.
Someone was approaching. She seemed beautiful, a bit too mature for my taste. I placed the magazine on my thigh and started with some lubrication. Silly me, I used to ejaculate alone; now, I know better.
“Hi, there, pretty boy. You shouldn’t waste that.” She placed her hands on the car door. “I can help you finish for thirty. All the way is fifty.”
A prostitute, really? This is a new low, Jerry.
She was also looking for prey, but of an inferior class. I wanted to kill myself.
“No, ma’am. It’s not like that. I just finished my shift, and my girl complains if I finish too quickly. Premature, they call it.” I tidied myself up and turned the car on. “So I pop one out before heading home. I don’t want her to look for pleasure elsewhere.” I took out my wallet. “Here’s a fifty for your trouble.”
“Yeah, I’ve seen that. Best pals be like jaybirds.” She laughed. “Make it a hundred, and I’ll forget it all. You won’t get mistaken for some loose nut job.”
I complied.
She walked away, and I pretended to leave. The premature ejaculation excuse I’d given her was a product of trial and error, not a quick reaction. I passed through a lot, fleeing the scene before the cops arrived.
I took out my phone, logged into a secure network, and texted Anna from the web-based chat application. “Remind me to tell you my views on prostitutes.”
Within a couple seconds, Anna wrote back, “Go ahead.”
“Can’t do now, I’m busy.” I kept my eyes on the road, waiting.
Dr-Anna45: “Are you doing something bad? How is the wagon?” A lame inside joke, about being off the wagon.
“No, hun. It’s just work errands. All under control. Following your advice, but the urges are intense. Managing with pain. Hope to see you, I want to thank you in person.”
As expected, I frightened her. As intended, she left me in peace.
Another passerby fitting the profile. Would she help me? Report me? Would she be disgusted or turned on? A feminist? Oh god, please not a feminist.
Fuck it. She was really old, a dried tomato. I packed up my things and fled. I needed a pristine source of entertainment, a new way to ignite the fire inside me, and I wished to pursue an unfamiliar type of pleasure.
I drove around until darkness filled the sky, I parked the car, not even moonlight. I tried to relax by breathing. I saw an old woman walking. She had an obvious hip problem. I knew the street very well, no CCTV, no overlooking windows, and unusual foot traffic. I put on my ski mask and hid in the bushes.
When she drew closer, I jumped out and hit her on the head. Once she fell down, I dislocated her shoulder. Fuck you.
I knew what Dr-Anna45 would say, that I had become violent because Laurie had shut me out, and this made me angrier. I wanted to go home, relax my body, and think about what I wanted. I couldn’t keep going like this.
I reached home and wrote:
On Men and Aging
When I’m of the age that crawls and yawns, that moans and cries, please kill me. Our race is in a moral decline because we have many old people among us. They are using our resources, and sometimes our women. We should do something about them to make space for the young.
We can start by ending their right to vote, then limiting their movement within society during nighttime,
and later during the daytime.
CHAPTER 8:
NOTHINGNESS
A few days ago, I read some disturbing things about the difference between pedophilia and child abuse, the former defined as only the urges, and the latter delineated acting upon urges, stimulation, grooming, exposure, and exploitation. A saddening realization hit me. Other hunters, part of the premium breed, were afraid to act upon their desires. What a waste. As if we chose our desires and preferences.
I wished to reach out to all the hunters and move someplace where we would be respected and admired. I dreamed of a haven, Hunters Paradise. Unfortunately, our kind lived in an extremely hostile era, and making the dream into reality was possible but required a blood sacrifice.
The wall watch showed 6 a.m. I slept for a refreshing couple hours, and was then ready to go. I checked on my cameras:
- Apartment 326: Laurie still asleep
- Apartment 433: Mandy and Alan still asleep.
- House on the corner: Brenda ineffective in waking up the children.
Melanie and Sylvie left town to visit a distant relative, and they wouldn’t be back for a few days. Their parting frustrated me, I badly missed Sylvie.
I reviewed the recorded hours, and they were useless, so I deleted them to save memory space. I thought about drones, peeping toms in chairs outside windows, sauna lurkers. How silly, unprofessional, and unsustainable. Why do something that will get you caught?
The hunt lost the early thrill: interview, watch, follow, see whom they hook up with, what they eat, how often they shower... I couldn’t wait ‘til I owned a hotel, I would build an ultramodern establishment, people check in and check out at a fast pace. I’ll call it ‘Warriors’ Relief’. However, thinking more about spying on women and grownups, I gathered that now it no longer scratched my itch. The camera business was only for fun or maintenance, but definitely not the real deal. Sylvie must come back now.
I couldn’t figure out my next step. The whole cycle became boring and repetitive. I wanted someone fresh to fill the void in my heart. I acted on impulse and went out, I might meet someone worthy.