Chapter 2

Having sex, any sex at all, actually fucking a girl, let alone a full grown woman who knows how to do it, is the dream of every 8th grade boy. I'm not sure how you would react, but having that sex may not be worth having your mind taken over - someway, somehow.

I knew the moment I heard the voice say I should have fucked that girl in the ass that it wasn't me talking. It just wasn't me. I barely knew my way into a vagina. Anal wasn't in my imagination. To me, even with my recent experiences, sex was more about kissing and touching a girl's breasts. That I'd leaped past the normal groping into full fledged fucking couldn't change my expectations that quickly. I was still a boy.

I walked my bike to the shopping center entrance and sat on it, rocking on the tips of my toes, watching the traffic flow and stop with each light cycle. Waves of cars, waves of lives, but each car and each life is also a particle, individuals that make groups, that compile into waves that flow through the streets like water. It all makes perfect sense, if only for that moment when the insight is fresh and meaningful.

Something is in me. I know it. Something is telling me what to do. No, it's more than that; sometimes it controls what I do just as it controls what others do. I've seen it control women. Can it control men? Does it only control about sex?

I thought about how this thing could operate, but could make no headway. Mind reading, mind control, all that paranormal stuff doesn't make any logical sense. Are thoughts sending out little particles that another mind can assemble and read? That's far-fetched and if it were basically possible, how would one thought be picked out from the multitudes which fill a person's brain at every instant? And how could one person's thoughts be distinguished from those of other people? No, whatever this thing is, it's doing stuff that can't be explained. How could any thought emission shape a woman's will so completely that she forgets her normal inhibitions, her normal morals, and fucks me without any sense of guilt? It makes no sense.

I wasn't ready to go home, so I locked my bike up again and went into the drug store. I looked at the magazines and wondered if I could use this to fuck some of these models. The store had a selection of instant cameras, Polaroids. A sales clerk, a guy, actually offered to show me one. He unlocked the case and handed me the top of the line model. "You need film too," he said and took out several packages.

"How much is this?"

"The camera is $129, I think, maybe $149. I can check." I handed him the camera. He locked the case and walked to the register. A few minutes later I was on the sidewalk with a bag containing the camera and - I counted - seven packages of film. I hadn't said a word and hadn't paid a dime. When I got home, I stashed the bag in the garage.

You may wonder why I took the camera. I heard nothing in my head. I hadn't directed any thoughts at the clerk, no "Give me that camera" chant or even suggestion. It all just happened.

That's only part of the explanation. The truth is I hoped this thing would work generally and not just for sex because then I would be able to get what I wanted. My dad worked very hard and always complained about how badly he was treated. He often would repeat the famous lines about the love of money being the root of all evil. He didn't resent working, only the part of work that others' greed forced on him. He wasn't a starry-eyed idealist believing in Marx's idiotic "from each according to ability, to each according to need," but he hated being reminded each work day that most of our lives exist to satisfy unnecessary desires so the rich can have more riches.

I lay in bed imagining the possibilities and worrying about what might happen. Could I walk into a bank and walk out with money freely handed to me? Could I get art, houses, cars? Would the police come knocking at the door asking to see the receipt for the camera? If they did, could I send them away with a thought?

Monday at school I looked at the girls with a new sense of purpose. All girls look good when you're young and when you're old. It's only in-between that you become critical. The girl who caught my eye was Susie. She had long brown hair, straight and shiny. She wore tight tops even though she had no visible tits at all. She had great legs and a round ass and that's what attracted me, that ass in her tight skirt and stockings.

Susie was obviously easy, at least to some degree. She hung out with older boys and older boys only do that if the girl is doing something for them. When I saw her that afternoon, she was asking a 9th grader for a ride home. He could already drive and, knowing him, that meant he probably had been held back at least once. I walked toward them and the guy, Ron, offered me a lift too.

I sat in back but when we reached Susie's house, she turned around and asked me in. That moment means something to this day. I saw a look in her eye. I don't know what it was and can't accurately describe it. She pushed her hair back with one hand and her eyes flashed. In the brief flicker I thought I saw that she already knew what would happen. I've seen that look since then and have decided they're actually seeing what will happen as though it's a memory, as though they're making real what has already occurred. I think that's why they're so relaxed and accepting. While I don't know what will happen next, whatever happens fits the picture they already have in their heads.

Susie introduced me to her mom and then we went into her room. She took off her clothes and began to rub her body against mine. Her bush was furry, dark and dense curly hair in a large triangle that ran down between her legs. Her clit was large. Her breasts were the slightest swellings but her nipples were large and very stiff.

I asked if we needed a condom and she said no. We kissed. Her lips were full and soft. She used her tongue well. As we kissed, I rubbed her pussy and finger fucked her as she rubbed my chest and shoulders.

Her eyes were soft green. Her eyebrows were dark, darker brown than her hair, and full but not bushy. I traced her ears. This time, for the first time, I felt in control. We made love, meaning we exchanged intimacies of touch and taste and sound, those gentle, sensual moments apart from the fucking.

We fucked. Her pussy was the best I'd been in. It's hard to describe the feel of a pussy - tight, wet, firm, gripping, soft - except to say that some feel better than others. Susie's hole felt great, like my cock belonged in it. Now that I'm older, I believe much of the experience of fucking comes not from the cunt to cock connection but in the ways her thighs bind her to me. Susie's thighs were, like Colleen's, firm and smooth and she had a way of opening them that thrust her whole pussy against me. I felt engulfed. This was a very good fuck.

She came several times, once almost biting my shoulder to keep from screaming. Remember that it wasn't my sexual talent making her come, but this force that affected her mind and body. In between orgasms, she told me she'd fucked two other guys. She loved to fuck. Her eyes shone as she described how good it feels, how she loves the feeling of a hard penis in her hand and in her. I picked the right one that day.

This experience had been blissfully free of the pounding voices. I lay spent on top of Susie as she continued to rotate her hips against me, issuing soft moans. I held her face. "You have tiny brown flecks in the green part of your eyes." I licked an eyebrow. "You taste salty." She giggled and rubbed my arms.

"Where did you learn to do it like that?"

"That was my first time."

"No way."

"Swear to God." We pushed our noses together. "Next time I'll try to satisfy you a little more." She laughed.

"I've never had an orgasm before... with someone."

"Why don't you masturbate for me." It wasn't a command, at least that wasn't the tone in my voice, but she pushed on me to get up. She touched between her legs.

"I'm all goopy. I want to clean myself."

We went into her bathroom. She ran water on her hand and rubbed it against her pussy. "If we shower and get really clean, I'll eat you out."

"Oh boy." She ran the water. As it grew warm, she pulled on my soft cock. This girl did love a dick in her hands.

"Do you have any lubricant? Some kind of slippery oil?" I asked.

"My mom has KY in her night stand." She hopped out of the shower, dripping wet, and dashed out. She was back in a few minutes, holding a tube. "I left wet marks all over the carpet," she giggled.

"Turn around and bend over," I told her. Susie put her hand against the shower walls and wiggled her ass at me. The voice inside my head said,

"Put your fingers in her ass." I reached for her butt and the voice interrupted, "Lubricant your fingers, idiot." I squirted some lube on the fingers of my right hand. "More," the voice said, "You have to lube her asshole." I shot a gob onto my index finger and reached for Susie's ass. I put my index finger up to the puckered opening and pushed. It didn't give.

"Relax your ass," I said. I pushed my finger in, turning it side to side, and the hole opened to receive me. I worked my finger in and out, then I inserted a second finger. Susie said it feels weird. Wait til I shove my cock in, I thought. The voice in my head told me to do it now. I squirted some lube on my hand and rubbed it the length of my cock. I was harder than I'd ever been and could feel my cock bursting with sexual energy. Without a word, I stood behind Susie.

"What are you doing?" she asked. I pushed my cock into her. She yelped. "Stop it. That hurts." I kept pushing. "Stop. Stop. You're hurting me." I was only a few inches in. I started to pull out but at that instant I lost control of my actions. My hips bent back. I grabbed hold of Susie's waist and then drove my cock up her ass, not fast, not slow but steadily like the tide coming in until I was all the way in. She was weeping and crying. One of her hands was slapping back at me. My hips pressed against her ass and pushed her body up from the bending position until she was flat against the wall, impaled with my dick up her butt.

My hands held Susie's hips firmly. I heard my voice say, "Pick a number between one and twenty."

"Eight," Susie answered, sobbing.

"Count the strokes," my voice said. I felt my hips arch back and move forward, once, twice, three times. Susie's voice counted,

"One, two, three, four." She was crying. My body paused. Then again, "Five, six, seven, eight." As the word eight left her lips, she screamed and bucked hard. I could feel her body tense and shudder. She was having a huge orgasm.

My body pressed her against the wall, then eased off. I arched my back. My voice said, "Now count down." I pulled my cock almost out of her ass. I yanked back and Susie began to move.

"Eight, seven, six, five, four." I stopped her.

"Slower."

"Threeeeeeee, twoooooo, one..." As the word one left her lips, she was overcome by another orgasm. Her knees buckled.

"Does it hurt?" my voice asked.

"Yes."

"Do you want me to fuck your ass?"

"Yes."

"Fuck with me together."

"One, two, three," we were moving in rhythm, "Four, five, six, seven." At seven, I buried myself in her. I held her body to mine. I rubbed her clit and pinched her nipples. We rotated our joined hips together, never pulling my cock out at all. Then I held her against the wall, with my cock buried in her. We stayed that way for minutes.

"I can't take anymore." She was trying to squirm but I held her tight to the wall. Her breathing became more and more ragged. She started to thrash one arm. "I can't take it. Give me the next stroke."

"Why? Tell me why?" my voice asked.

"I want to come. Please let me come. I can't take this." I pulled my cock out so only the tip was in her, then I rose on my toes and pumped it hard up her ass. Susie came so hard I thought she passed out.

Later I took polaroids of Susie, some of her naked and a few of her sucking my cock. She signed and dated them. On one picture of her standing, half turned away, with her round ass the focal point, she wrote, "Thank you for fucking my ass!!!!" over a little smiley face.

I remember clearly walking around my bedroom, holding that picture in my hand, my mind turning over. "Do I really need pictures? Should I keep a log book for all the girls to sign after I fuck them? Is this going to wear off?" I decided that I could never know. I might wake up tomorrow and the only thing remaining would be pictures validating otherwise unbelievable memories. Maybe I'd start to repel women and I'd never fuck again.

But what if it continued? Could I live my whole life fucking any woman I met? Could I be happy? Could I use my power to accomplish good? Could I take control, obtain wealth, God knows what?

I started to make a list of my priorities. I wrote down a heading - "List of What I Want" - and held my pencil over the paper. I thought and thought but couldn't decide what really mattered to me. If I'd known about Hitler could I have had him killed? What about Pol Pot? Could I affect the course of the Supreme Court? Should I meddle with the future?

I looked down. And saw writing. Neat writing, neater than my usual, printed not script. "You will fuck. You will obtain the money necessary to fuck whomever you want, where you want and when you want. You will fuck those whom we command you fuck. You will not make yourself known to the world at large. You will remain in the background. You will not interfere in human events. You are our vehicle. You will feel our presence at some times but not at other times. You will give us pleasure. You will not always like what you will do. You have no choice. You were not chosen for any important reason. You will learn how to obtain what is required. You will learn what is necessary. The more you learn, the more pleasure you will receive from the pleasure you give us."

I swear I did not write these words. I swear I had no knowledge of the act of writing. Yet I knew when I saw them on that page - a page I still have in my possession - that they were true. I had felt that voice inside my head. Maybe I was crazy. Maybe I was constructing a vast delusion. If so, this fit. These words were my destiny.

I soon realized what the words meant by not always liking what I would do. One of my best friends had a younger sister. She was 12 and though she had sprouted breasts, she was still early in the bloom of her youth. I couldn't imagine touching her. I remembered her in diapers.

This memory, probably because it is the first like this, retains a bittersweet vitality. Her bedroom was pink, a caricature of girlishness, with a ruffled pink canopy over her bed. The bed squeaked as she bounced up and down on my cock.

She had stripped off her top and put her breasts to my chest. I rubbed her clit with my finger. I had no emotions, only the physical sensation of her firm tits and wet pussy and my hard cock. She lay back on the bed and I entered her. Three swift strokes, hard to the hilt, and I pulled out. I lay on my back and she got on top. I fit my cock into her pussy after she missed the opening twice. I watched her as she bounced, her tits so firm they barely moved.

I reached for her nipples. Taking one between each thumb and index finger, I twisted them. Then I slapped her tits back and forth with my hands. Then I grabbed her hips and drove them onto me hard. With each rough move, she became more excited. As I shot my load into her, I willed her to come. She shuddered and grabbed at my hair.

I left my friend's house shaken by what I'd done. I had come but I hadn't enjoyed it. I had sex and wasn't in control of what I had done. I had been rough and didn't know why. It hadn't been me doing it with my body.

Our development abutted an apartment complex filled with young couples. I found myself the next day outside one of the buildings as a green Mustang pulled into the parking lot. A very pretty young woman got out, dressed in a blue, tailored, women's suit with a blazer and a skirt. She fished a briefcase out of the back seat, locked the car and began to walk toward the apartment entrance. I followed. I felt like a stalker. I walked up behind her. She opened the door. I followed her in. She walked up the stairs to the second level. I followed her. She put the key in the lock of 2B, opened the door and went in. I followed her.

She walked down the hallway and turned into a bedroom. I followed her. On the dresser was a photo of her looking beautiful in a wedding dress. Other photos showed her handsome husband. They were sailing. They were at a ski lodge.

She turned to me. "What are you going to do?"

"I'm not entirely sure," I said. She looked stricken. I could feel the scene slipping away from me. I didn't want to be an actor moving around for the enjoyment of whatever controlled me. I needed to take charge. "Why don't you lift your skirt?"

"I can't. It's too tight to pull up."

"Then take it off."

She reached behind her, unzipped the skirt and let it fall to the floor. She was wearing pantyhose. I'd never seen them on a woman before. "Pull those down, too," I said. She bent over and pulled the pantyhose to her knees. As she started to lift one leg to slip the hose off, I said, "Stop there." A thought had formed. It felt like my thought.

"Turn around. Bend over. Put your hands against the top of the dresser." She was now facing the photographs of her husband and her. I pulled off my pants and underwear. "Wiggle your butt. Not so much. I'm going to place the head of my cock up to your pussy. Understand?" She said yes. I moved behind her. I pushed the head into her very slightly.

"Ever commit adultery?" No, she said. "Ever cheat on your husband?" Once, when we were engaged. "Do you have a pet name for your husband?" It's huggy bear, she said. "I want you to tell huggy bear that you love him and while you do that I want you to push your pussy all the way on to my cock."

"I love you, huggy bear," she said as she fucked backward. I held her to me.

"Feel me in you?" Yes, she said. "Do you doubt that I can do what I want to you?" No, she said. "We can do this easy or we can do it hard. I'm giving you the choice. You can fuck me of your choice and have more intense pleasure than you can imagine - I promise that - or you can say no and I'll fuck you anyway. If you say no, you'll be doing the right thing by your husband but you'll feel guilty for fucking me and you won't be able to tell him. You'll have to live with the guilt."

"You'll fuck me anyway?"

"You bet."

"Will you use a condom? I'm not on the pill."

"No condom."

"I can't do it without a condom."

"That's not a choice. You're going to do it without a condom."

"But what if I get pregnant?"

"You don't have a choice. I'm going to come in your pussy. You can enjoy it or you can feel bad about it."

"We were talking about having a baby."

"Ten seconds and I start. So you know, you're not going to stay still. You're going to fuck me like an animal even if you don't enjoy it."

"Don't."

"Ten, nine, in eight, seven seconds you'll be screaming fuck me and begging me to ram it up your pussy, six, five... "

"I'll do it." She started to sob.

"What's your name?"

"Janice."

"Pleased to meet you Janice." I held out my hand. "You can shake my hand. After all, you're fucking me." She reached back and shook my hand. "Start moving." She began to rock back and forth, tentatively almost not moving. "I'll show you what I mean." I made her twitch her ass back and forth in an undulating wave.

"Oh my God," she said.

"I told you it would feel good." I willed her an orgasm. She gasped. I squeezed her butt cheeks in my hands. Her ass was taut. "Why don't you strip for me. Do it sexy. Then lie down on the bed and ask me to fuck you. Go on. I'm going to let you do it on your own. If you're a good girl, a very good girl, then every way that you're sexy for me will be paid with pleasure."

I pulled out of her pussy and, after resting a moment, hands against the dresser, Janice stood. She started to sway back and forth while unbuttoning her blouse.

"You can do more than that. Make like you want this more than anything in your life. You're getting so hot that you can't stand not having my cock in your pussy." She gulped but began to toss her hair. She licked her lips and made kissing motions at me. "Why don't you try some dirty talk."

"Oh baby, you make me so hot. You know I want you."

"No, no, no. Tell me specific things. Tell me how many guys you've fucked. If you've ever cheated on your husband. Tell me what a slut you'll be for me."

I could see her mind reel and the words "Oh God" form on her lips. Her blouse was open and as she unhooked her bra, she said, "I've been with... fucked six men. I cheated on my husband once before we were married, when we were engaged."

"Tell me about that."

"I was out with some girlfriends and I met a guy in a club. He was so hot and I wanted him. I told my friends I was going next door to get something to eat but I really went out in the parking lot and fucked him in his car. It only took him ten minutes, start to finish. I didn't suck his cock. We used a rubber."

"So how do you feel about cheating on your husband now?"

"I can't believe you're making me do this. How are doing this?"

"I'll tell you what. You lie on your back and give me the fucking of your life and I'll let you in on the secrets."

"You're going to make me?"

"Let's say you'll have assistance when you need it."

Janice lay back on her bed. She had small white tits with brown nipples, a bikini tan line, and a flat stomach over athletically thin legs. Her bush was trimmed. Without any preliminaries, I climbed between her legs.

"Guide me in." She moved my cock into her opening. "Now push your pussy up at me." She lifted her hips. "Keep that going, up and down." I had her fuck me like that for a few minutes, occasionally jabbing my cock down into her, each thrust accompanied by a tremendous blast of induced pleasure. Janice was breathing very hard. "Now give me a ride, sweetie." She bucked and fucked and I began to pump my cock into her. I decided to keep her on the edge of orgasm, driving her crazy, then saying, "The only way you can come is by making me come. You'll have to fuck harder than you've ever done it." She fucked me like a beast in a frenzy, her hips bucking at me. "Are you ready to come with me?"

"Yes," she almost screamed. I shot my load into her as she moaned and gasped in wave after wave of orgasm.

Lying on top of her, I told her to respond truthfully, "Is that the best fuck you've ever had?"

"Yes."

"Say it."

"That was the best fuck I've ever had."

"Want more?"

"Yes, I want more."

"Ready to know a secret?"

"Uh-huh."

"I control you. When your husband gets home, I can have you fuck me in front of him, telling him he can't ever make you come again and I can make him sit there and beg me to fuck you."

"Oh God, no."

"That doesn't sound so good, does it?"

"No. It's awful."

"You can buy your way out of that. Do that and even if your husband sees you sucking my cock, it won't register. It will be like it never happened."

"How much do you want?"

"From you? All of it."

"All our money?"

"No, my dear. I want you to be my sex slave. Anything I want to do. If I want to piss in your mouth, you'll drink it and ask for more. Not that I really want to do that, but you get the idea."

"How long do I have to do that for?"

"Until you buy your way out. Want to know how you do that?"

"Yes."

"It's very simple. You provide me with pussy. Do you have a sister?" She nodded. "If she looks anything like you, I'm going to fuck her. Good looking friends? People you work with? People you meet? I want them here."

"And you'll have sex with them."

"Oh, we'll be having the most amazing fun."

"I have to get you women. Can't you get them yourself? Can't your control them or is it only me?"

"I can control anyone, but the fun is that you do this for me. I'm going to keep score. When you get enough points, then I'll release you. I'm not going to tell you how many points you need."

"What kind of girls... what do you want?"

"Nice girls. Pretty girls. Not sluts. Married girls. Engaged girls who don't want to give it up to a stranger. Girls who don't believe in sex before marriage."

"You're going to corrupt them."

"Here's the thing. I'm giving you a deadline. I want the first one here in two days. Pick a good one. It's important to get off to a good start. If you don't deliver, then you get punished. Understand?"

"Yes."

"You must already have a few candidates."

"How do I get them to do this?"

"You just get them here. I'll take care of the rest."

I had discovered the monster inside me. It breathed a special form of life, as though it tapped directly into the force of sexuality, unmediated and undiluted by social convention or moral restriction. It wanted this and I had to feed it or it would turn me into a puppet acting out its desires.

It is surprisingly easy to live with a monster. I expect the same must be true for serial killers, a surprising perhaps even unwelcome ease of accepting the awful truths of what you do and what you will do again and again. Many years on now, I more fully understand the realizations reached during those days. This thing in me protected me, kept me from harm, kept me even from harming myself, and could be managed as long as I fed its demands.

I was standing at the kitchen counter, heating up a piece of chicken in a pan. I had turned on the wrong burner. The pan's metal handle was suspended only a few inches above the high heat. I realized my mistake and instinctively reached for the handle. My hand froze just before it touched the over-heated metal. I mean literally that my hand froze in place. I could not push it forward with all my willpower. I actually grabbed that arm with the other and pushed it toward the pan, but my hand could not move. It was stuck in space. I realized the pan was incredibly hot and that I would have been burned.

After turning off the stove, I picked up a paring knife. I lay my hand on the counter and placed the tip of the knife to the fold of skin that connects the thumb to the index finger. I made a fist with my other hand and raised it over the end of the knife, then brought it down hard. The knife point did not move. It did not break the skin.

Over the next day, I tried to hurt myself in small and large ways. I swerved my bike into a moving car, tumbling over the hood and landing on the pavement - without a scratch. I jumped off the roof onto a small pile of rocks and sticks. Not a mark on me. It barely even hurt.

I rang Janice's bell and she buzzed me in. I had wondered if she could resist doing that, since I hadn't willed her specifically to follow instructions like that. She opened the door, but didn't look me in the face. Without a word, I followed her into the living room. She had done well.

On the couch was a blonde with short hair and a round, very pretty face. She was dressed like Janice in a tailored business suit. "This is Michelle. She works with me."

Michelle stood up. About 5'4" and curvy. She put out her hand. I took it and turned to Janice. "Why don't you tell Michelle what's going to happen."

"Do I have to?"

"I think it would be nice."

Her eyes looking into the distance, Janice said, "He's going to fuck you."

Michelle tried to pull her hand from mine. At least I could feel a slight tug. "Pull harder," I said, "And see what happens." She tried to yank her arm away but instead of pulling away her body began to sway suggestively, like a stripper working a customer. Her eyes grew wide.

"Let's get the basics down," I said.

"I'm on the pill."

"Great."

"I'm engaged."

"Congratulations. When's the wedding?"

"In six weeks. I've never cheated."

"There's a first time for everything, isn't there? Let's get started."

Michelle moved forward and I undressed her with great enjoyment. Light freckles on her shoulders. Beautiful medium sized tits. A smooth belly with a slight, womanly bulge, firm things, a neatly trimmed dark brown bush. When she turned around, her best attribute, other than her pretty face, became apparent, her shapely ass which showed no signs of spreading at the top of her thighs.

"Ever done anal?"

"No."

"This is your day for firsts. Ever had sex with a woman?" She was facing away from me. I had one hand on her breast and the other was caressing her pubic hair.

"No."

"Wow. Three for three. Turn around so I can explain things to you." She turned, her arms limp by her side. "The more you put out, the more you get back in pleasure. Your body will do what I want no matter what."