I am a bad man. I know this, I admit it. I do bad things. Right now, the FBI are conducting an investigation into my actions. They don’t know who I am, they don’t have any leads, but they are searching. It is because I am careful. Over the years, I have learned to conduct myself carefully. Most would call me a “serial rapist” but I don’t like that term. I would call myself a professional.

I don’t know how it started. I know the day, May 7th, 2002, but honestly it started years before. Ever since I was young, I liked to watch. I followed the girls in the neighborhood around and observed them as they played. They would always yell at me and chase me away, but it never stopped me. As I got older, I would hide in the girls locker room as they came in from volleyball practice. God, it was exciting! They would change out of their spandex shorts and shower. I got to see it all! I kept this up for almost two years until I was finally caught and kicked out of school.

It was around that point I started to peep through windows. Late at night, I would hide outside the window as they changed for bed. I was spotted a couple times and had to run, but most of the time they never knew I was there. I got very good at being stealthy. One time I was in the tree, just 3 feet away from the woman’s window. She even stood at the window for a moment, looking out at the neighborhood, and she never noticed me. Eventually, I started breaking into their homes as they slept. I would go through their things, look through their sex drawers and take a pair of underwear as a souvenir. Sometimes I would watch them sleep. One time, I jerked off into one woman’s sock. I sometimes wonder if she ever figured out what had happened or not.

I was 21 when I hunted my first victim. Her name was Jenny. She was one of my favorites. She was one of the girls I used to watch in the school locker room. She was the star of the volleyball team. I found her again years later, by pure coincidence. I took a chance in a new area of the city and when I was waiting for the girl to appear in the window, I looked at her neighbor’s house and there she was. I would come back once a week to watch her. She kept a pretty rigid schedule, which was more than okay with me.

I watched her for nearly 6 months, each time the urge got worse. I wanted her, I had to have her.

So, on May 7th, 2002, I packed my things. I brought ropes, tape, gloves, a mask, a knife, a lock picking kit and condoms. It was my early kit, a rudimentary kit. I waited until late into the night before I made my move. I broke in from the back door. I snuck up the stairs and waited outside her bedroom door. It took me a few minutes to work up the courage. Once I was ready, I put my mask on and took the rope out. I crept into her room. It did not go smoothly. I tried to tie arms to the bed frame but she woke up. How her scream didn’t wake up the neighbors, I will never know. She punched me in the nose and tried to run.

She made it to the door before I tackled her. I grabbed her leg and dragged her back in. I twisted one of her arms behind her back and began wrapping the rope around her wrist. She struggled, got a few good hits on me, but within a couple minutes, she was tied up completely, unable to move. Finally, I slapped a piece of tape over her mouth so she couldn’t scream

Her body went limp as she accepted what was about to happen. She pushed her face into the carpet, trying to hide it from me. I couldn’t believe how hard it made me. I broke the first condom jamming it on my cock in such excitement. I was more careful with the second. I used the knife to cut off her panties and shirt, leaving her lying there naked.

I rolled her over, so I could look her in the eyes. I wasn’t sure why I wanted it at the time, though now I know that I like the power trip. I like to see the despair in their eyes, the hopelessness. It gets me off.

She looked up at me, her eyes pleading for me to stop. We stared at each other for a moment, then I pushed myself inside her. Fuck, her pussy felt amazing! It was tight, and soaking wet. I was surprised, I never thought a woman would get wet during a rape. I know now that they all do. I think it is because secretly they all like it.

Her body was so fit. She definitely worked out. Her tits were round and plump. I had a lot of fun playing with them. She moaned a lot when my fingers worked their way down to her clit. I could tell she hated how much she liked it. She shook her head, as if she was convincing herself that she didn’t like it. Seconds later, an orgasm ripped from her body. She had a seizure on the ground, cumming hard from her rape.

She turned her head to the side and cried softly, ashamed of how I had forced her to enjoy her own violation. She looked so broken. So defeated. This set me off. I couldn’t help it, I came so hard. I had never felt that good before.

Once I had finished, I panicked. I pulled my pants up and rushed out of her house. I just left her there, tied up. I’m not sure how, but she did manage to escape at some point. I drove past her house the next morning and there was a couple cop cars on the road. One of them watched me as I passed. At first, it scared the hell out of me, I thought they were going to out me right there. However, I passed without a problem. What a rush! Flying right under the nose of the police. I loved it.

That was the beginning. From there, I refined my technique. I learned to pick more complicated locks, how to bypass alarm systems, how to tie better knots and stalk my victims. I was like a hunter on safari. I followed them, learned their schedules, their habits, waited for them to be separated from friends and family, then I would strike.

My favorite victims were married women. I used to go after single girls who lived alone, but they were so easy. The wife was a much more difficult prey. They were constantly surrounded by their husbands and children, making them much bigger challenges. I found a taste for married life when I was 26. That was when I met Krysta. She was a 41 year old wife and mother. She was a flirty girl, unhappy in her marriage and was always hitting on the men around her. I met her back during my roofing job. Her husband had hired the company I worked for. She used to walk by the windows wearing skimpy outfits. She would constantly come out and sunbathe in her swimsuit right below where we were working. As I watched her there, shaking her butt slightly as she lay in the reclining chair, I knew who I wanted next.

By this point, I had done at least two dozen of these types of rapes, but always with single women. I knew what I was doing, but there were a few new challenges I had to face. She was married, with children, so she didn’t live alone. Her husband was rich, so they had a good alarm system. Their house was in a rich neighborhood, fenced off with security guards, so I couldn’t just drive in, and analyzing her schedule at home would be hard.

At first, I considered dropping the idea, pick out someone easier. Then I thought of the lion. The lion is king of the jungle, he doesn’t back down because the hunt seems difficult, and neither will I.

I staked out their house for a couple weeks, bypassing the gate and security by hopping the wall to her neighbor’s house and sneaking over. I didn’t consider it at the time, but I’m lucky that their alarm system didn’t involve sensors in their backyard. But it didn’t, and I made it outside Krysta’s house.

She would always head to bed at 10pm. Her husband, about a half hour later. The house was dark by 11pm. Her husband would leave at 8am for work, the kids for school by 8:30am, leaving Krysta alone in the house. She would remain there until 10am when she would head out to the gym.