I opened the farmhouse door quietly and stepped inside for a drink. I was walking to the living room when I began to hear familiar noises that I had c...me to remember. Moans of pleasure were coming from the room and I stopped by the living room arch and took cover. I peaked my head around the corner for a look and I saw Mrs. Day-Sea furiously masturbating on the sofa as porn was on the television. I was honestly surprised by the sight but I was not at all disturbed. She was watching an anal. At the age of fifteen, I was thin and had a rather pale, melancholic complexion. My natural air of melancholy was often mistaken for unhappiness caused by some trouble, hence my fellow students always tried to cheer me up in vain. I knew exactly the cause of this melancholy: I was in love, not with a particular person, but with the notion of love and masculinity. My burgeoning body longed to be touched, kissed, dominated. Its thirst demands to be quenched by a virile body. Every night, in the. More

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