Total pages in book: 106
Estimated words: 97951 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 490(@200wpm)___ 392(@250wpm)___ 327(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97951 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 490(@200wpm)___ 392(@250wpm)___ 327(@300wpm)
“How do you think you became this way?”
“I know exactly how it happened. I experienced the loss of my mother at an early age. She was hit by a car. I saw her lying in the middle of the street, she was torn to pieces, and it messed me up. There was so much blood, her scream I kept hearing in my mind… My mother was my best friend. I was a mama’s boy, through and through. It fucked me up.”
“Oh my God, I’m sorry.”
He nodded, took a sip of water, then continued. “I was developing. My psychiatrist at the time explained that I was a little boy when this happened, and somehow, in some odd, unfortunate way, I fused my interest in girls and sex with pain and trauma. It’s rather complicated to explain, but that’s the gist of it. I found a way to grieve by blocking it with something that felt good. Something that would distract me. Every time I would get depressed about my mother, or angry about being poor or whatever it was that was upsetting me at any given period of time, I had this to fall back on now. As inappropriate as it was. In spite of all of this, I am quite self-aware. I knew it wasn’t normal to fuck five, six or seven different women in one day, and still want more pussy afterwards. It had to stop.” He leaned back, an angry scowl on his face as he folded his arms. “It was also risky behavior.
“It wasn’t normal to have an amazing sexual experience with a woman, and then five minutes later, jack off to a porno when I just busted a nut. There’s nothing ordinary about that. I was formerly diagnosed by one of the best psychiatrists and sex addiction therapists in the world, Nadia. He spent significant time with me, and I was identified as having a level 5 sex addiction, which is the highest you can get from the chart that he designed, and is still used by many professionals in the field today. It is unusual to get that high of a score, but I did. I was also diagnosed with hypersexual compulsive disorder—level 5 again—and possessing sexual deviancy tendencies, level 4.
“I wanted to do kinky shit because regular ol’ vanilla sex wasn’t getting me off anymore. There’s nothin’ wrong with kinky shit as long as it’s consensual, and no one is being irreparably wounded.” He smiled, and she smiled back. “I love kinky and regular ol’ vanilla sex just fine, but if the kinky stuff is always the preferred method to achieve orgasm, then it’s a problem. My doctor who diagnosed me said I was one of the worst cases he’d ever seen. He even put me, anonymously, in one of his medical textbooks. Patient #0821A-K. How crazy is that?!”
“What medical book was it? I want to read it.”
He paused, then burst out laughing.
“I’m serious.” She chuckled.
“I know you are. You like to learn… you’re a brilliant student, and that’s wonderful. I’ll send you the link to buy it online. I’m sure it’s still in print. Anyway, I became a case study for people all over the world. Me and my dick were a menace to society. I was Darth Vader and my cock was my lightsaber. I was definitely using the force, and I loved the dark side.” She stifled a laugh at that, knowing he was for real. “I was in college getting my Masters and PhD, a licensed therapist, which adds another crazy layer to this. I scheduled my life around sexual encounters. Work. Sex. Eat. Sex. Take a piss. Sex. Go to the gym, in an effort to not necessarily stay healthy, but to garner more attention during my hunting of women. To get sex. It was absolutely insane.”
“Were you exhausted?”
“ALL THE TIME! But I was also running on adrenaline, which fooled me into thinking I was fine. I would hunt women every waking moment, and even when I was asleep because when online dating began to get pretty popular, I had profiles working for me twenty-four-seven to help catch women to hook up with, too. I’d go to clubs. See women on the street. In the store. At airports while I’d travel for business. Even on phone chat lines before the online dating boom. I would meet up with these women, fuck their brains out, then discard them—like they weren’t even human. Most times though, I didn’t even have to approach women. They’d come to me, which made things both ten times easier and ten times worse.
“I am a sex addict to my core. There is no cure for sexual addiction, only coping mechanisms and strategies. I refused to become a priest, or abstain forever, so I had to figure out what I could do, realistically, to get control of myself—especially once I realized how serious sex is, and how who we share our bodies with matters. Sex is a spiritual connection. We form attachments, like wires to people, when we give them our bodies. We become one when we have intercourse with someone. I was out here with women all over the damn city, attached to me. I’d made soul ties because I would get into these women’s brains, and then I would fuck these women with skill and passion. I had been inside of them, re-wiring them to fit me. Did I know this shit back then? No, but when I did realize it, I knew I needed help. I was hurting people, including myself. You worked in the sex industry, so I know you at least have a basic understanding regarding what I am talking about.”