Mr. Feelgood Sitting here with tubes sticking out of my nose and wrist I'm not sure why it seems so important to write this down, but it does. My body is wasting away and I can only hope my mind hasn't followed. This may sound absurd but I think the pain is the only thing that's kept me sane. The pain is not intense, more a dull ache, like when you have a bad case of the flu, that never ends. Even with the dope they pump into me I can feel the ache in the core of my bones. I used to think it was impossible to feel pain while you slept but I know better now. It all started when I was twelve, just a boy, and not that long ago. I can feel bits and pieces of that day floating in the back of my mind but I can't seem to grasp all of them, so I'll tell you what I know. It was summer, I could taste the pollen in the air, time to go back to school. I was at my Aunt's house, for some reason I went there that summer more often than in years' past. It was a time of mischief when the first fires of puberty had begun. I won't tell you her name, it's unimportant now, but I will tell you she was a cousin by marriage. She was fourteen. Curiosity. My Aunt and Uncle had gone to the grocery store. They always did their shopping at one spot in particular and it was on the other side of town. This was common knowledge to us both but we were unconcerned having been left alone like this many times before. I was downstairs digging around in my Aunt's musty closet, the curious boy hard at work, when she called me. She was upstairs so I went to the door of her parents bedroom where I could call back to her but she yelled down the second I came in sight. She wanted to play house. As you can imagine my excitement at the thought of playing house was less than lackluster. She spotted my reaction and frowned. I expected her to extort my participation with threats of what she would tell her parents when they returned. Instead she smiled and assured me it would be different this time. That caught my interest and I said I would join her after going to the lavatory. After relieving myself I climbed to the top of the stairs to find her bedroom door shut. There's a distinct smell to a woman's room, like sugar and spice and everything nice, that's pleasing. I had never noticed it before. I called to her and she asked me inside. I opened the door to her room and finding her naked, back towards me, I instantly closed it. My mind whirled in alarm at what I had seen and began formulating excuses to keep me out of trouble. I heard her giggle, a small sound, that calmed my fears. She insisted I enter her bedchamber and after much coaxing I complied. The lights to the room were off, but it was the middle of the day and I could see her easily. She turned and smiled at the redness coming to my checks. I found my eyes locked on her naked form, soaking her up, it was the first time I had ever seen a naked woman. I could have gazed at her for days. Even now I find no view on earth as pleasing or mesmerizing as the female body. I realized I was staring but I couldn't help myself. Her breasts were small, the nipples swollen from puberty, hair just beginning to peek from her genitals. My body responded. New sensations surging through my inexperienced body. Blood swelling in my groin. She undressed me. Her touch was like silk. My mind was in a total state of confusion. Gooseflesh enveloped my body. She moved us onto the bed and pulled the covers over us bringing my hands towards an area previously forbidden to me. She was warm and gentle. It was over quickly. I'm not sure if she even enjoyed it, but I was in rapture. She asked me to play house a few more times that summer. I was always the eager playmate. Then school began and it was over. It would be five agonizing years before I would have the chance to re-ignite those desires. Don't misunderstand me I had orgasms during that time, but masturbation never proved satisfying. So during that long lull I studied. I became determined to learn all I could about my experience. You see, I'm not an unattractive man but I'm no Harrison Ford so it became clear to me at an early age I would have to become very good at sex if I wanted it on a regular basis. If they enjoy it, love it, and it makes them feel impossibly good, they'll want it all the more. Right? So I spent many nights in the quite confines of the library reading and researching, a man on a mission. Control. My next encounter was with a woman of my age. Seventeen is a wondrous time, a time when we take our lives for granted. She was an angel from heaven that I seduced. Our first time was in the front seat of a beat up Grand Prix, behind the school we had met in. We were friends for a couple of years before any type of relationship began and that proved to drive my frustration into a frenzy. That spring night I released five years of energy. I went deliberately, took control, using every ounce of my knowledge. She was putty in my hands and I molded her into a woman desperate for sexual release. We started just as the sun was fading and when it was over the moon was high in the sky. I believe that I took her to another plain of existence on that night, that may sound cocky to you, but you would have to have been there to understand. From that day forward this woman's solitary desire in life would be to reach that place again and I was more than happy to comply. But I had made a mistake. During all the research and study I had never bothered to learn, thus understand, what a relationship was about. Abruptly I became frustrated. I didn't understand why then, but I do now. You see what was obvious to others was unknown to me. Sex cannot be everything in a relationship. It took me years to learn that and when I did it was far to late. The sex began to falter. I lost control. I was alone again, but not for long. Lost. During our time together she had bragged of my prowess in the bedchamber and soon there was a long line of woman willing to put the rumor to test. Don't get me wrong I was never a philander. I always preferred a long relationship, where the odds for sex on a regular basis were much higher. To date I've been with no more than twenty women. The next two years proved good ones with eight relationships. During that time a burning began in my groin, but I was unconcerned. It is a well-known fact high quantities of sexual relations often cause bladder infections. I had sex no less than three hundred times in those two years, so why worry? High School ended and along with it many of the acquaintances that often transform into relationships. That summer proved the most uneventful since playing house. Lust. I enrolled at a prestigious university and got myself an apartment less than a mile from campus. Don't ask me how it happened I simply know it did, I found myself living with two women. One older, one younger, both physically active with me but never with each other and never at the same time. It was an unusual relationship to say the least. Taking turns, one on the floor with me the other in the bedroom, each night. Then it was over. The whole episode still baffles me. College quickly became an obvious political platform with little learning taking place. I dropped out the following year. Corrupt. It was the sex I loved. The moving rhythmically in and out, the damp warmth, the feeling of having an entire body sigh in your arms, that I wanted. I couldn't get enough of it. It destroyed me. My body deteriorated gradually at first. I got sick more often. I was tired all the time. Places on my body oozed that shouldn't. My features became gaunt and my skin paled. When I finally decided to go see a physician I needed assistance to walk across the room. They took blood and when the results came back I went to the hospital. I've been here ever since. I'm not sure who gave me what, it doesn't matter anymore. The doctors have told me what I have but I can't remember all their fancy little names. They never touch me unless they have to and when they do they always were their latex gloves. At twenty-two I'm dying. I've been told I deserve this. I should have protected myself but like a heroin addict I needed it, screw the consequences. I still feel the desire. Do I regret it? Would I do it differently if I could? You decide. What do you think about when you're all alone trying to fight yourself into sleep, regret? Me? I wonder where you are now, and if I gave you one of the gifts given to me and if you've passed it on. Sweet dreams. June 1999 HofP |