I grew up real quiet.
Nobody noticed me. I was never sure if people were wary of me, or just didn’t care about me.
Sure, my parents loved me; my grandma even said was ‘shining’ – but it was only in their eyes.
I don’t know what it was – but I just couldn’t get interested in other people’s conversations. They didn’t seem to talk about things that were important, or funny.
I guess I was too self-absorbed… in any case, as I became more self-aware, thoughts of judgement, self-importance, and pride began to cloud my senses even more, and I became even more introverted and anxious as I separated from the pack.
Depression hit early on, and as a child, I was prone to suicidal ideation.
I got used to things, but as I grew up, I became emotionally stunted and timid.
Once puberty hit, it became obvious that I had a problem.
I wanted sex, I was desperate for intimacy, but when I made eye contact with a beautiful girl, my heart would begin pounding, I would tense up and lock myself into my mind with thoughts of,
‘Does she like me? If she looks one more time, I should say something… Oh! She looked, I must be attractive. Maybe I can get a better girl. I don’t even know what to say, the situation doesn’t really call for anything…’ etc etc.
I started reading articles from pick-up artists, but somehow, they all ended with ‘Just be confident, don’t be afraid to make mistakes, work on yourself, then you’ll feel worthy.’ Good advice, but I was so self-enamored that I couldn’t bear to break any boundary or make any change.
I got older, and through alcohol, cigarettes, and dating apps, managed to numb my self-loathing at times, and was lucky enough to get with a couple of plain girls, have unexciting sex, and get through the day without thinking of killing myself.
Otherwise, I’d just jack off, and go to sleep in, at this point – unnoticeable, shame.
At times, when drunk or high, I imagined myself to even be charismatic, silly, or the life of the party. Those moments only served as an excuse to escape my self in the future, and I began to develop a substance abuse problem.
Eventually, the pick-up artists began to have a religious tone to them, and I realized that I too had a spiritual problem.
I began to meditate. There were so many systems that I got lost in trying to make sense of it. I didn’t know what to do first – breathe or imagine a sanctuary – where to place my focus, what to try to sense, and my mind was so sporadic that I couldn’t stick with one technique long enough to see an effect.
Smoking weed helped.
I started college at about this time. I was doing great, too.
I actually loved the classroom – the teachers were always open to discussion, and I liked showing off my creativity in public. I still couldn’t talk with people about ‘normal’ things, but the classroom setting was structured in a way that gave me permission to speak my mind about the subject matter. It helped with my confidence, a bit.
But I was still smoking, still drinking, still jacking off at least once a day.
Still trying to meditate, self-medicate, trying to get to the core of myself.
At some point, I had a major trip when smoking weed. It was something of a rock bottom for me.
I realized that everybody is in bondage, everyone has obligations, everyone is a slave;
We live in a constant, slow-burning anxiety to find something of meaning, a solid ground;
Since we have no connection to our sustenance (our food, shelter, our leaders), we are in a stormy ocean full of undefined beasts, tossed to and fro by entities that attach to our sense of self;
We give in to them, and sell our souls to corporations, to unfulfilling relationships, to substances and self-neglect.
After a few hours of this, understanding birds, and setting the price of my own soul at the destruction of the world, I found a meaningful reason to live:
There was a beautiful woman, a supermodel in sunglasses, who was strolling a baby in a carriage back and forth a dozen feet away from me, waiting for someone.
When I asked for the world to be renewed, she uncovered her eyes and blew me a kiss.
(I suppose my despair was evident, or, maybe, it was an illusion).
In any case, I was in something akin to functional mania for a few weeks following that episode.
All of a sudden, I could talk an ear off, I was funny, I was fearless, people wanted to be around me. Girls, beautiful women would look at me, and I would approach them without a second thought.
But it seemed like I was too pure, too ‘out there’ – there was no fear in me, but neither was there any sexual aggression.
I became frustrated, and as easily as the spirit descended upon me, it up and went, as I began to desire things once more.
I left college, after not going to classes for a few months, and began working odd jobs, while thinking about what had happened.
At some point, I was stuck between two jobs, working sixteen hours a day, leaving me no time or energy to jack off. I wasn’t frustrated anymore, I was just dead.
Yet my meditation became more refined. I found the Buteyko method of breathing and became able to consistently calm, first, my breathing, then my thoughts, so long as I kept my body still.
As my awareness became focused, I could shift it to my heart and would feel bliss.
In Christian terms, I was worshipping Mary.
I would be given spirit, and people began to notice me.
But, it would be too exciting for me. I would get too proud, and begin desiring again.
I realized the problem wasn’t so much the desire as it was the revolving around it, instead of becoming it.
My day job was at a graveyard.
All sorts of people would work here, usually people who couldn’t get a job elsewhere, volunteers, criminals doing community service.
At some point, a guy named Alex came by. He was a pudgy Armenian guy on probation.
A rare, proper gangster, he was putting in his 200 hours after getting caught with a pistol in a house, following an attempted robbery of an acquaintance who recognized him.
As soon as he walked in, he started telling people what to do, where to go, how to do their job, even though everyone had seniority on him.
Nobody raised their voice at him. I didn’t either. Why?
He cared for people. He asked about your day, and if you didn’t have much to say, he’d tell you some insane story of who had brandished a knife at him yesterday, what girl he had been with the day before, and how he had laundered money before that.
He didn’t care about who had authority, he would tell them to fuck off and let him do his job with just enough of a joking intonation that they would laugh and leave him alone.
He made meals for the rest of us, and immediately began to notice the idiosyncracies of other people, and began to tease them, make inside jokes.
Everybody began to see him as a friend.
Even I, who was so proud. Though I argued with him oftentimes, sometimes heatedly, I found that I would have deep conversations with him about the nature of the world and even began to consider him a good friend- it was inevitable since he was so easygoing.
What was crazy to me, was how he would approach girls who came by to cry over the graves of their loved ones.
Within a few minutes, they would be radiant, and would enthusiastically hand over their number.
Can you imagine that!?
It’s definitely not socially acceptable, is it?
I realized that he lived in a reality different from mine – he lived in the wilderness and thus could use his fullness of self, and seeing as society was always lacking, the rules would conform to him.
I thought that there were no more frontiers, nothing to conquer, neither physically nor intellectually, which led to my spiritual bankruptcy.
He thought that every moment was a frontier, and he was on the border, constantly expanding the territory of his heart!
Here was an example of someone that embodied his soul, and used this incarnation to expand the influence of his heart.
There was no distinction between the outside and the inside.
Attention was placed on both, simultaneously – the border between the two, which turned out to be the center and fulcrum of the world as I experienced it.
I took this concept into my meditation.
First, I found the empire, the culture of my heart that I wanted to lead – my goals.
There were many, some tainted by ego, some purely material, some deep and glorious.
I found that the ones that struck a chord were ones that gave other people meaning. Ones that both enlarged their perspective and made them notice and love the mystery of life.
I wasn’t sure what to do exactly, so I just placed my faith in the deepest part of me, where I presumed God resided. And tried to discern the impulses that arose from there, in contrast to impulses that came from the learned ego.
Then I became the Good King. I submitted myself to, or defined my sense of self as less important than, these impulses, in the faith that they were in line with and would lead to my goals.
This was a process that slowly rooted out things that would numb the sense of vitality that I received from my heart.
It couldn’t be done without a structure of support, so I started going to AA.
Alcohol was the most rapid inflator of a sense of ego, and killer of spirit.
My heart noticed that I was caring for it, and blessed me with love for the world.
As I began to work on my goals, i.e. – being of service, I simultaneously found myself wandering off less.
No more unnecessary phone usage, no cigarrettes.
No lusting after girls.
I came to the realization that even my impotent lust for them stemmed from a desire for self-validation. As my self-importance fell away, so did obsession with the other sex.
And as energy began to free up from old habits, new forms of self-expression began to well up inside me. I found more time to work out, to make steps in my goals, to work on certain skills and arts.
With my newfound faith – that the world was a wild (and therefore, magical) place to test the heart, to be a frontiersman – I found life to be much more reactive to me.
I slowly began to interact with people, smiling here and there when eye contact was made, making jokes at situations, giving compliments.
I made sure to not veer into bullshitting, neither myself nor others, and always kept close to my heart.
Rather quickly, it began to be obvious that I had entered another current of life, one in which I was attractive, charismatic, smart, and sometimes, miraculous. Women began to actively seek my company – the more I attended to my soul, the more they attended to me.
I found that sex happened whenever I was in the mood for it. Sometimes with strangers, sometimes with women I’d known for months.
Here was an early experience:
I was waiting for the light-rail, sometime in the afternoon, to get to work. I had decided to get a coffee that day since it was quite the busy morning, and I had some time until I needed to leave.
I went to the coffee shop nearby to kill some time.
The place was run mostly by teenagers, though it was usually packed enough to need better management.
The line was already large, but I was used to it.
I smiled and said my hellos to a couple of familiar faces, and took a place in line.
I felt a tap on my shoulder
I turned around, expecting to let someone pass by.
‘Excuse me…’ a pretty brunette was blushing, holding an empty pastry bag.
‘Can I help you?’ I replied, already grinning wolfishly, as I instantly felt desire flood in.
The script for this side of reality is full of surprises.
She’s really cute, I thought, and the thought seemed to show on my face since I saw a shine in her eye as she glanced towards me, still blushing.
‘You… sorry, but you look like you… um… work here…’ She looked at me sidelong, holding her bag out in my direction.
‘Can… you help me choose?’
I was enthralled by her vulnerability.
It didn’t even come across my mind that this was a very toward display.
It takes serious guts to go up to someone you’re attracted to like that, especially in this day and age!
I laughed, ‘I don’t work here, but of course!’ Wanting to reassure her, I put my hand on her shoulder, when I noticed that she was dressed quite modestly.
She had a dark skirt that reached down to her mid-shin and leggings underneath that. A black vest covered her (possibly buxom?) torso, with a white sweater underneath. Undeniably religious.
I recoiled my hand.
She noticed and stretched her arm out to wave away my fears.
She hurriedly said, ‘It’s ok!’
I nodded – I didn’t want to embarrass her in a public place, so I kept my hands to myself, for now.
Then, fumbling a little, she regained her balance and said, ‘Thank you! So, um… what are your recommendations?’
I smiled softly at her, and as our eyes finally met for longer than a second, I took her in.
Her eyes electrified me… I would find arousal every time I saw them see me.
They were blue, and large, with long black lashes. She had straight black hair that reached in something of a ponytail down to her narrow waist. Her face was of beautiful proportion, almost angelically pale, yet with almost shockingly red lips, and lightly freckled cheeks, still burning, and a beautiful, rosy complexion was evident beyond her embarrassment.
Though she squirmed slightly, she was clearly of good breeding. She was only a few inches shorter than me, when she had leaned forward to me, I could detect a faint, delectable perfume from behind her ears, and a deeper, muskier aroma, just as enticing, from her body.
‘My… what?’ I asked, almost in a daze.
‘Never mind.’ She smiled sheepishly at me, ‘Let’s just see what they have for sale.’
We walked around the store a bit, then went to another place that I really liked.
Then it turned out that we actually both had a lot of time left (we called our respective responsibilities to let them know we weren’t going to make it), so we decided to sit outside to drink some coffee and try some snacks together.
It amazes me how physical attraction translated to mental and emotional chemistry so consistently.
We talked for several hours, conversations becoming deep, then light, joking, and laughter was freed almost immediately as we forgot our shyness.
Her name was Sarah. She was, in fact, religious, but found life within her community confining, she told me. So she wanted to meet new people from the outside.
She had started college recently, for psychology.
‘Y’know, I found that people that go into psychology are trying to fix themselves, for the most part,’ I told her.
She laughed, and said with a smile, ‘Yeah? Well, what do you think my problem is?’
‘I don’t know… why did you approach me?’
Her smile spread some more, and her eyes glimmered, ‘I just thought you were… interesting.’
I chuckled, and said plainly, ‘Yes.’
Her gaze fell into mine, and she continued, ‘Actually, this is why I went into psychology. Not just for myself – I want to know why certain things, certain people, certain ideas, are attractive, and others are not.’
‘Hmm.. why do you say, not just for yourself?’
‘Oh, hadn’t you noticed? The girls behind the counter couldn’t keep their eyes off you. And you spoke so softly, but the guys heard your greeting and your order.’
‘Why is that?’ I wondered.
She gave me a mysterious look, ‘Why is that, indeed?’ And brought her coffee to her lips.
My eyes grazed her sweet features. From her ears to her high cheekbones, her delicate nose, heart-shaped lips – she was nobility. Or a rich girl, prone to idealism.
Whatever she was, I wanted to have her.
I arrived to her magnetic, innocent blue eyes, and, without blinking, she slowly asked again, ‘So, what do you think my problem is?’
I felt a heat arise in my body.
‘Where should I begin?’
I didn’t let go of her gaze.
She took a slow sip from her cup and set it down.
Softly and without hesitation, she replied, ‘Right here, right now.’
My cock throbbed at her words.
‘Let me get the check.’
She leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms. I felt her eyes pulling at my back.
I returned from the counter and saw that the sun was setting. I gave my thanks.
I walked to the table and stood by Sarah. She looked up and asked, ‘Where do you live?’
I told her my neighborhood, and she replied brightly, ‘Great! I’m on the way.’
We started walking. The tension from the cafe rose as we began to realize that we were almost at the end of this chance encounter.
As twilight darkened, we happened to be going through a park, and as the tension began to stifle our speech, I looked over to her, at my side.
My gaze became intent, and I grabbed her hand, stopping her in her tracks.
She saw my look, and her eyes gave a little ‘Oh!’ of surprise.
I pulled her over to me.
My cock, at half-mast since I had met her, rapidly hardened as her thigh drew near, straining to touch it, though my jeans kept it bound.
My eyes never left hers as our waists drew near to each other.
My hands slipped behind her waist. It was narrower than it looked.
Our legs crossed, and her small hands were on my chest while her beautiful, delicate face tilted up towards me.
Where we touched, electricity charged, and flushed away inhibition.
My pulse was quickening.
I could feel her breath, the warmth was drawing me in.
We brushed our lips together, faintly, to get a feel for the softness.
Then we met more firmly, melting our lips together for 3… 2… 1…
I broke off, as my heart began to beat wildly.
I looked at her, and her gaze was as frantic as I felt. There was deep longing in them, hypnotizing me.
I shook myself, and, using my remaining wits, found that we were still on a public path. I turned to the woods and pulled her in after me.
She came gladly along. We were both positively skipping in delight as we arrived at a more secluded meadow.
I led her behind the woodline.
Pausing, she took a small lunge toward me, hugging me from behind. She lifted her face to my ear and breathed, ‘I seriously have never done this before.’
A little confused, I turned my head to her and asked, ‘You’ve never had sex?’
Abashed, she shook her head, ‘No, I mean I’ve never done it… like this.’
I knew she meant to say, ‘With someone I met today’ but didn’t pursue that line of thought.
I said, ‘To be honest, me neither. It feels right, though.’
I never would’ve said that line, or, hell, even been in this situation previously… but it did feel right – the chemistry, the tension, and now, the chase – all these emotions made me feel as if we were playing some kind cat and mouse game, one with an approaching climax.
The excitement of catching someone – or getting caught – in hide and seek, something like that.
She looked at me with pure, open eyes. I looked back at her, unashamed, but attentive, to see if she didn’t want to play anymore.
The gaze between us became magnetic, as our lips melted into each other’s again.
This time, we allowed ourselves to heighten our passions.
Small moans of pleasure arose, as our lips found warm delights, and our tongues began to worm in and taste the other.
Our hands roamed freely – she put her cold fingers under my shirt, exploring the hardness of my body. They warmed up quickly.
I first hemmed her body on the outside of her sweater, within the vest, finding her shapeliness to be more accentuated than I imagined. She was soft, very soft, and responsive to my touch, pushing her flesh into my hands, moaning.
I remembered some wise words from Alex when we were talking about the state of the world:
‘The reason so many girls go into porn, and act like whores, is because they actually do want to be whores. The secret is, that once they find someone who can treat them like the sluts they are, they become the faithful trad-wives guys keep whining for.’
As I remembered this, I felt a spirit of aggressiveness rise within me.
I wanted more of her.
How far would she go?
As I thought this, she gasped. My hands found their way under her sweater, under her bra – her shapely tits were exposed for the world to see. I squeezed, then tugged at them, bringing my mouth forward to lick them, then suck and bite them.
‘Ooooh’ Her soft groan encouraged me.
My left hand at her waist, my right slid into her skirt from the back.
I looked at her – her eyes were closed, her eyebrows uplifted as if asking for more.
‘W-wait…we shouldn-‘ I silenced her with my mouth. She returned my kiss with gusto, her tongue was hot, and her breathing was sloppy, wet.
I caressed her ass, gauging her fleshliness. Her bottom melted in my hands, so tender, silky, but firm.
She probably was not on birth control, I noted.
Another quip of Alex’s flashed by:
‘Good sex for women is not the same as lovemaking or cuddling. It’s intense, and it doesn’t matter if it ends quick or not. So long as it’s real, it’ll leave an impression.’
I gripped her ass tightly, pushing her into my crotch, then slid my fingers into her crevice.
My left hand moved from behind her waist, under her skirt, to the top of her leggings, fishing for her fruit.
I felt her warmth through my jeans, smelled her aroma waft freely.
My hands reached her damp knickers, positively steaming with grool. I wasn’t surprised to find an unkempt bush around her panties. The follicles were soft, dewed in her juices.
It excited me to find her in her natural state, untouched by self-consciousness.
She was breathing heavily into my ear, alternatively nibbling and sucking on it.
I arrived at her fleshy mound, covered in wet cloth. I could feel her plump lips, if I stopped, I would’ve felt them pulsing for more. Teasing her a bit, my fingers rubbed her nethers, back and forth, all the way, with her moaning into my ear, face contorted and head rolled back.
Her body was slumping against me, and I pushed my hips into hers, grinding my jean-wrapped cock against her body.
I squeezed her lower lips together, she hissed and bit my ear in return, then licked it again, as I stuck my fingers under her panties to caress her more intimately.
Her crotch was engorged, and I was drawn like a magnet to her sopping-wet opening.
Pausing, I took my right hand out from behind her, unzipped my pants, and took out my cock.
My left hand, now lathered in her juices, came up, with my right going to her leggings, pulling them down along with her panties.
Her gown stayed on.
I lubed up my cock with her wetness.
I almost came right there – there was something electrifying in her current.
I paused for a second, breathing in, and out. Finding my heart, beyond the passions of the moment, I asked Her what to do.
‘Enjoy.’
I looked at Sarah, who was looking at me with a mischievous look.
I leaned over to bite her lip.
‘You were much cuter when you were shy,’ I smiled at her.
‘You were much better looking when I didn’t know you were a pervert,’ she teased back.
We kissed once, passionately.
I knelt down to help her feet free of her leggings.
Coming back, I took her knee up with me, pressing it against her body – my arm in the crook of it, hand taut against her back.
I walked her back, pressing her against a nearby tree.
I grabbed a hand of hers, and guided it to my lubed-up cock, kissing her again.
She squeezed it, so I held her hand in mine and slowly moved it back and forth to simulate the movement I wanted.
She continued to squeeze roughly, but I didn’t care.
I put my hand back up to hold the side of her face and kissed her passionately, licked and nipped at her cheeks, then put my teeth against her forehead and groaned to show her my approval.
My hips started to rock with her hands, swaying more and more and till I could feel her thighs, then the hairy slickness of her pussy.
I put my hand back down to pull hers off my cock, but she held on and tilted her head away from mine.
‘Please… be gentle’, she whispered. The abashed look from the cafe returned.
I gazed at her.
‘…I’ve only had sex a couple times, and it’s been a while…’
I nodded ok. Her head slowly tipped back to mine, and we locked our mouths together, as she released her hand to hold my back, pressing her bare breasts against me.
I slowly leaned my cock forward, into her moist, inviting slit.
I guided it with my hand, teasing it into her tight hole. We both moaned into each other.
My head felt like it would pop from her pressure, but I kept inching it in her, as she began to gasp, ‘oooh, oooh…’
Her face was wincing. I slowed down as I hit bottom, then stopped. It was almost too much for me.
‘You alright?’ I smiled at her.
Her face was still contorted, but she managed to smile and peek at me from an eye.
‘Yep….’ and ‘Give me a second.’
I obliged her, trying to calm my own racing heart.
After a few seconds, her face was more or less relaxed, and she kissed me again,
‘Go.’
I went. Slowly back out, then slowly back in. She let out soft hisses.
In, out,
Innn, ouuut…
There was no way I could be as aggressive as I wanted here. I’d cum immediately. Her hole was squeezing me from within, and more than that… the feeling inside her was hot, shocking – I could FEEL her charging my dick to cum.
Pulling it deeper inside, like a vacuum, sucking at it, squelching.
I exhaled slowly, centering myself.
Sarah had her own plans.
She was a naughty girl, it turned out.
She began to bump her hips against me.
‘Oh, Ooooh!’ she exclaimed, her movements becoming more excited.
Who was I to resist a call like from such a pretty girl? I let go of control, then and there.
I pushed her back against the tree and began to pump my cock feverishly into her. Her pussy convulsed immediately, gripping at me even more tightly, and her squeals became loud enough for me to cover her mouth with an open hand.
She bit my fingers.
Naughty!
I gripped her jaw and slammed my member into her hole.
‘OOHH!’ We definitely attracted attention there.
‘Ahhh, AH, ohh, yesss, please, More, fucckk!’
At this point, I just wanted to cum and get out of there, so I continued pounding her uninhibitedly.
‘Shut the fuck up!’ I hissed in her ear.
She looked at me with wet eyes, ‘Okayyy… ‘ she replied shakily.
I let her leg down and twisted her body to the tree, one hand bringing her hips up and back towards me while the other pushed the nape of her neck down.
She grabbed the tree with both hands and behind her, I took hold of her neck.
I flipped her skirt up to reveal her shapely pale ass. I admired it for a moment, massaging it.
As I slipped my cock back into her dripping box, I told her, ‘I’m going to cum, if you don’t keep quiet. I’ll choke you.’
Only later did I realize how that sounded.
She gasped, ‘Yes!’ I took that as consent.
I began to pump my hips into her.
She swayed back towards me, and the wet claps were not much quieter than her previous outbursts.
So I let go of the idea of choking her and grabbed her hips with both hands. I planned to get this done quickly, attacking her hole with a renewed frenzy.
She began to wail, ‘Ohhh, yesss, Ah, FUCK ME… Like THAT!’
I swore and brought a hand up to tighten around her throat to cut off her moans with a snort.
She wheezed, and her pussy squeezed me in response, not willing to let any inch of my cock out.
This was a tug-of-war that I was going to win and an act of aggression that I would not tolerate.
I smacked her ass in punishment, then relaxed my grip around her neck for a second to let her take a breath, and tightened again.
From my view, I could see the side of her face reddening.
Her pussy was convulsing again, more so than before – her whole body shook as a wave of orgasm swept over her.
A throaty moan arose from her, and it set me off.
I groaned, and felt my own body tighten as I released my seed inside her, dousing her insides completely.
Her pussy lapped it up, sucking every last drop out of me.
As her moan began to subside, I began to lift her up to stand straight.
My cock was still hard, inside her.
I pressed her face against the bark and kissed the side that faced me, pulled out and turned her around.
She looked at me, dazed, red-faced, her hair wild.
I grinned at her.
She blinked, and with open eyes, blew a stray hair away from her mouth.
‘This was fun,’ she smiled wryly.
I laughed, ‘Yes, same time next week?’
She kissed me to seal the deal.
………….
I came to find out Sarah was a French-Canadian, Jewish, twenty years old.
She had a sharp mind, a quick tongue, and a constant purity to her.
She lived by herself, near the city center, in a nice apartment.
We met up the following week, and the one after that.
Sometimes at her place, sometimes in public.
