I was a bad, bad person and was proud of it. I shouldn't have been proud, but I was. Now, years later, I am truly sorry for what I did, but is it a generation too late to apologize and seek forgiveness from all of the people that I did wrong and hurt.
The year was 1969 and I was a recently-graduated high school senior. The Vietnam War was at its height and tens of thousands of us were going to be drafted, trained, and sent to fight in that cesspool. Many were coming back in body bags and many more were coming back forever changed physically or mentally (or both!) by the horrors of war.
But I wasn't going to be one of them because the medical community had determined that I had one leg that was a half-inch shorter than the other one, and, therefore, I was IV-F (four-f), unfit for military service. I was willing to go and do my part for the cause of freedom, just as my father had done in World War 2 and Korea, but it wasn't going to happen. In all honesty, in a way, I was relieved, but in another way, I was disappointed because I would not be able to take advantage of military service to obtain job training and credit toward a college education, something that my academic scores would be able to do. And because of my lack luster performance in high school, my parents were unwilling to pay for my college education. That meant either a job to pay for college or student loans. I figures that if I was going to have to work, then the academic world could go forward without me.
It wasn't that I was stupid or dumb, but most of the time, I was bored with school, so I didn't study much, yet I still managed to maintain a C+ to B+ in all of my classes, but nothing that would get me a single dollar in scholarship monies. My real problem was that I was very smart, innovative, and curious. I could tear something apart and put it back together without a manual or instructions, and, I could read a technical book and easily pass a written test on the subject. Still, I just didn't seem to grasp the importance of passing all of those tests and turning in homework and term papers.
Anyway, I manipulated the circumstances and worked the details out to my advantage so that being less than honest, which was my normal mode of operation, would enable me to take advantage of a number of young ladies for the express purpose of impregnating them and leaving them to deal with the consequences. THAT is how I had decided to be a bad, bad boy and obtain vengeance for my perceived wrongs. And I did not care who I hurt, as long as I succeeded in hurting people.
As I said, I was a bad boy, and I was a real sorry bastard.
Dad was in line for a promotion at his job when the company sold the plant and the new corporate giant eliminated a lot of positions. Of course, Dad was able to take a transfer to one of their other plants, but it was as a new hire and he lost all seniority and associated benefits. In other words, he was screwed, but saw not recourse other than to go on with life.
So they moved from Jacobsville to Ellistown, another small town about three hundred miles away, and I was left behind to maintain what had been my family's home until one of Dad's oldest friends could close on the purchase. For my trouble, I was given a small weekly subsistence, they paid the utilities and telephone service, and I was given an unsupervised bachelor pad for three months.
Being creative, I came up with a story about going away in three months and how I would probably never be coming back. Without telling too many lies, I managed to convince girls that I should be the recipient of their affections before I left. The initial goal was to bed as many girls as I could as many times as I could, and, I was quite successful at it, finding some lucky girl to share my bed just about every day of the week. A few of the many one-timers were girls who had been relatively friendly to me, but the ones that I really went after were girls that would never have dated me in high school because I wasn't part of the "in-crowd", a jock, or one of the popular guys, but, in spite of that, here I was being graced with their time and efforts to give me memories that I would never forget, and, honestly, I never did forgot them.
Now I had a distinct advantage as a seducer because my mother was a nurse and she had been the one to educate me on "the birds and the bees", insisting that if I had any questions, all I had to do was ask, so I asked question, lots of them, and got answers.
Of all of the girls that I bedded, there were a few that became my special project, and they were Cindy, Vickie, Charlotte, Becky, Brenda, and Melanie, and, of course, the twins, Rachel and Rhonda. Every one of these girls had done something to either embarrass or humiliate me, or their boyfriends had humiliated me in some way, and I was determined to get even with them, with interest. They were also chosen because their boyfriends had either broke-up with them or had left for the military or college, leaving them behind and vulnerable. The only exception were the Justice twins, Rachel and Rhonda, whose father had been one of my dad's big bosses and responsible for him losing his job and having to move away from Jacobsville.
These were the days before abortion was legal, so a pregnancy meant a girl would be having a baby in nine months. Birth control pills were not as effective, and many girls did not take them because if someone discovered that she was on "The Pill", then it was assumed that she was available and willing. If a girl was on the pill, it was kept a closely held state secret. Vickie, Becky, and the twins Rachel and Rhonda were on the pill, but the others were not. In fact, all but the twins were virgins, but that status changed as soon as I could manage it.
The seduction of these eight girls was not nearly as difficult as I thought it would be. In fact, the twins were the easiest and the last ones that I was with before I quickly left town. It amazed me how a guy with a plan could get girls who had managed to keep her virginity through high school to give it up without a fight or the accompanying drama.
The first month of my plan was spent being the most attentive guy in the world, being courteous, thoughtful, and very observant, and the end result was learning about the girls and their cycles, what turned them on and what did not, and always being careful to use condoms or to only be bareback during their 'safe times'.
The second month of my plan was spent getting them comfortable being naked with me and spending lots of time petting, necking, and teaching them to enjoy their bodies and sex while doing anything we could imagine, of course, always being careful to use condoms when requested or when necessary.
The third month of my plan, I was on the home stretch, so to speak, so I begged for more and more opportunities to be bareback, and it worked like a charm. During the mandatory condom times, however, was when I turned into a real bastard and used condoms that I had carefully punctured a few times with a needle. As additional insurance that my little swimmers would be successful in finding the gene pool, I purposely put the condoms on incorrectly so that there was not sufficient space at the tip to hold my discharge without leaking enough of my little swimmers out of the security of the condom and deep into the perfect location to do their job effectively.
My final insurance premium was a stock of vodka that I had managed to acquire that relieved them of their inhibitions and encouraged them to spend the night in my bed. A few too many drinks and they were out like a light. That's when a bareback trip into their heavenly portal left a deposit at heaven's gate. Being a conscientious guy, I always took the time and effort to thoroughly clean them up afterwards so that there was little or no outward evidence of my extra opportunities and activities.
And then there was the issue of the ones on the pill.
As I said, Mom taught me anything I needed or wanted to know, including what would make the pill less effective, so even with the protected babes where I enjoyed many, many barebacked opportunities and never had to use a condom, I still had a plan. The plan was simply to make sure that they missed a pill or two, and that I was able to slip them some of the abundant supply of strong antibiotics that Mom had arranged for me to have available due to a recurring sinus problem.
I know ... I was a real bastard. There's no excusing what I did.
After leaving town and giving them false and fake addresses for my mail, I decided to totally change my appearance, so I grew a beard and long hair. Within six months I had gained about thirty-five pounds that helped to drastically change my appearance. My job on a construction site helped me gain muscle and a deep tan, thus no one could easily recognize me unless they were very close and actually spoke with me.
Dad was busy on his new job trying to impress his bosses and could not take any time off, but he needed to return to Jacobsville and pick up his small fishing boat that had been stored at a friend's house since the move. I had an old sedan when I left town, so I could not tow the boat and had to leave it behind, however, I had traded it for a used pick-up truck that I used to carry tools and materials for my construction job, so it was perfect for towing Dad's boat. I volunteered to take a few days off from work and drive the three hundred-plus miles to retrieve it.
.... There is more of this story ...