Excerpts from 1000 Secrets, A Million Lies Confessions of a Sex Addict

(15 Years Earlier)

I had been waiting for this night all week. It’s my birthday. I think she is finally gonna give me some. I mean this girl is hotter than anything I’d ever been with. She was that high yellow, almost white-looking sister. She smelt like sweet honeydew brown sugar candy apple cinnamon lemon drop cherry cake. Her smile covered her whole face and these ultra-white teeth could knock you off your horse. Those big lips of hers were always juicy, moist and tasted like grape, cherry or tangerine. I couldn’t wait to lick the lip gloss off ’cause she would quickly reapply. I knew this was the day so I was free balling. I was wearing this new terrycloth short set with the short wide legs for easy access. She drove up in her burnt orange Cordoba sparkling clean and shiny. Not a speck of dirt on it inside or out. I bounded out of the house to her car with short loose short shorts on, with no underwear—semi-hard already, bouncing around as I walked like there was a banana and two plums in my pants. She gave me one of those juicy kisses. Oops! Not semi-hard anymore. I almost shot a load right there. This will be my first time as a sentient consenting adult. I’m a big boy now. I’m 17. I thought we might go out to eat or something, but she skipped all that and drove straight to a make out spot. We kissed and made out. I played with her titties for a bit. Again a smell that was just so soft and sweet that you just wanted to lay your head there for a while and lick on ’em. By now I no longer had on any clothes, I barely had on any to begin with. Her blouse was unbuttoned. Bra—gone! She pushed me away and smiled and said, “Hold on for a second.” I was about to blow! Pre-cum and snail trail everywhere. Slowly she reached under the seat. Quickly she pulled out a 9-millimeter gun, stuck it in my face and said, “Get in the back seat.”

We were on a country road, miles from town. I was naked with a gun shoved in my face. I complied, thinking, Oh my God, she’s going to kill me and just roll my dead body over in a ditch. She’s a city slicker from Chicago and I’m a country bumpkin from the back woods of Oklahoma. This must be how she gets her kicks. Seducing and killing dumb country boys! I crawl in the back, erection intact, ready to meet my doom. She keeps the gun on me, climbs back in the back seat with me. She removes her daisy dukes and climbs on top of me. She grabs my dick with one hand, gun in the other and puts it slowly inside her. We have the best sex session ever in history. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity she said, “You—you—you can cum now.”

I came so hard I thought my head would explode. I yelled and screamed to the top of my lungs as I came. She did too. We collapsed into each other and fell asleep briefly. She wakes up first and says with a big beautiful smile, “Happy Birthday.” We get dressed and she drives me home. I get out of her car with a big shit-eating grin on my face, after I stick my tongue in her mouth for about 20 minutes. I go to my room, lay on my bed, head still spin-ning. Dick getting hard again. Thinking, I’m gonna marry that girl! and I fall asleep with my hand down my pants.

He had called me earlier that day. Asked me to pick him up at the airport. His wife kicked him out, for a couple of days anyway. Just told him to leave for a couple of days. Said she needed time and space to think. First he had quit a good I.T. job and wanted to go to the School of Arts to become a graphic artist. Then he wanted to move to Arizona, she indulged him. No work for a graphic artist in Arizona so he became a realtor. The guy has a knack for reinventing himself. Six months no properties sold, now he thought he would become a pilot, for ten thousand dollars for the course! For her that was the last, last straw. She kicked him out.

He only had a backpack for luggage. I hugged him. He got in the car and off we went to my place. I showed him to the mancave, where he was to crash for a couple of days, and went back upstairs to fix some vodka crans, I know for whatever reason he was here was going to need some as-assistance from the spirit world or at least the world of spirits. I returned and handed him his drink. I didn’t try to make small talk. I could tell he was hurting. After a few drinks he asked me, “What did you think about all that stuff we were texting about?” I answered, “At what particular point?” He stood up, pulled his pants down and said, “You’re gonna have to take the lead ’cause I’ve never done this before.” I couldn’t tell if it was real or just one of my fantasy daydream delusions… but I went with it. “You know I’m poz, right?” I said quickly as I went over and started sucking his dick. He continued to remove his shirt and shoes. He pulled me to my feet and started kissing me, in the mouth! A straight married guy and he was kissing me in the mouth. He said, “Well, I hope you have plenty of condoms,” and pulled me to the couch on top of him. We kept kissing for a while, then he scooted down and pulled my crotch to his face and started sucking my dick. He was doing all the leading. I ran upstairs to get condoms and lube—sucked his dick some more and put on a condom. His legs were already in the air. This beautiful, groomed blond man was inviting me in! Hell yeah! Even if I was delusional. This was fucking hot!!! I started to put my dick in and he said, “You better loosen me up first with a couple of fingers.” I complied. We fucked several times that night in several different configurations. We drank and fucked some more. He cried and said how much he loved his wife and kids and how they had to get back together. He cried hard, big sobby crocodile tears, then we fucked again.

TJ was this beautiful blond man with a hot body, beautiful ass and a nice thick dick. He competed in motocross and biked and played boot hockey. He stood about 5’11”, smooth, and was chiseled from head to toe. He kept saying, “I’ve just got to win her back…. I just got to get my family back.” He fell asleep crying and saying that. I pulled the covers over that beautiful body of his and climbed up the stairs to my bed and fell asleep. I woke up the next morning still a little drunk. I thought to myself what a wild and crazy dream. I lay there with a hard-on, smiling. I heard the stairs creak and he appeared at the door wrapped only in a small throw blanket and….

We met in a gym of all places. We had been glancing at each other off and on for weeks. Finally he walked up to me and smiled and said, “What are you working on tonight?” I smiled back and said, “Bi’s and tri’s,” and did the famous double biceps pose with fists clenched and both arms raised, overexaggerating my brilliant winning smile. I was very proud of my bulging biceps. I in turn asked him the same question. “What are you working on?” He answered, “Abs,” and lifted his shirt to reveal the most beautiful, cut-up, washboard six-pack that I have ever seen. “What do you think?” he said. I smiled, licked my lips and said, “I think we should have dinner later.” We both laughed and exchanged phone numbers. “How about around 8-8:30?” he said. “Okay,” I replied, “I’ll call you.” Later that night I called and got an address, name and directions but it was still a little hard to find and it was dark. I couldn’t see the numbers on houses. I had to call again and get led in with step-by-step directions on the phone (this was before all the navigational apps). Rob (was his name I discovered later) opened the door and pulled me in quickly and looked around to make sure no one saw me come in, like in a spy movie or something. He had made spaghetti. I brought wine. We had a wonderful meal. Rob didn’t have a wine opener corkscrew thingy so we had to push the cork into the bottle and try to maneuver the wine out around the cork. We laughed hilariously at ourselves. We sat after dinner and talked about sports for hours. The Vikings, the Twins, the Wild, the Timber Wolves, we covered them all. It was getting late and I stood up and said, “I should probably get going. I have to be at work early tomorrow.” Rob stood up as well and said, “You want to come in to the bedroom a little bit before you go?” I followed him in, of course. I couldn’t resist. We made out for a while, sucked and f@#ked and were exhausted. “Is this just a one-time thing,” one of us asked, “or should we try seeing each other again?” We both agreed that we thought it was something that we should explore. I think I must have fallen asleep. I jumped up, quickly got dressed and ran home to shower and go to work. I waited the customary two days before I called him. I couldn’t stop thinking about him, though. Those hazel eyes, that perfect hair. He was gorgeous. “You have reached a recording, the number you are trying to reach has been disconnected or is no longer in service. Please hang up and try again and make sure you have dialed the number correctly.” And I did! Five times! FUUUUUUK! Lying mother-fucking, player-ass punk!

(Present Day)

My good friend Jay and I were flying, in route from Minneapolis to Virginia in his recently upgraded Moony. He had it decked out with all the newest upgrades from tip to tail including the most current autopilot GPS navigations systems and a compact food warmer. This plane was sick! He always let me fly the plane even though I’m not a pilot yet. He taught me almost everything I needed to know about flying. Things about speed, lift, weather and understanding and reading the entire instrument panel and communicating with the control towers and executing course corrections. We always had many deep conversations on the many long flights we’d taken. We were on our way to the annual boat show in Annapolis. See, some years earlier we had rented a sailboat in the Caribbean and we were both hooked on this sailing idea so this was an annual adventure to go dream about the sailboat we would one day own.

The whole Caribbean adventure started because Jay wanted to do some-thing nice for his young adult children who had just lost their stepfather. He had met a couple of other pilots earlier while getting his sailing certifications. They had agreed to rent sailboats at some point in the future and sail around the Caribbean. Well, this was that point in time. He texted me and said, “Hey, renting a sailboat and sailing around the Caribbean. Here are the details. You in?” My response was “Hells yeah!” He originally invited my buddy Rob and me but Rob backed out after he saw the price tag and claimed he was having legal troubles and needed to stay state side at the moment. I had already committed to sharing half the cost so to offset my portion, I invited another buddy of mine, Brian. He was one of the Kodak trust fund babies and had plenty of resources. That choice would prove to be both fun and awesome and the beginning of a long and erotic friendship. The Caribbean is fantabulas! There are 127 British Virgin Islands! 127! And that’s just the tip of the iceberg. We sailed from island to island drinking and singing and swimming and in total awe of the whole sailing experience. We were hooked.

As we flew out to the boat show this time the conversation turned to-ward true things that existed but that you could not see. My first submission of proof was that we were flying ten thousand feet in the air in a plane powered by one propeller that was moving so fast that you could no longer see it. Yet it was undeniable that we were flying. He conceded by arguing that at least there was sound, proving that the unseen propeller was indeed present, therefore with the sound and the knowledge of aeronautics one could easily deduce that even though one couldn’t see the propeller in action, it was not a far stretch to accept the reality of its existence. I sighed heavily preparing for my next witness. “Okay,” I offered, “what about Love? Sor-row? Hate? Emotions? You can’t see them but you can’t deny that they exist and boy, are they real! Both you and I have experienced the pain and sorrow of a lost and failed love or the hate and contempt for the thing we hate or contend.” I smiled, impressed by my own logic and reasoning, and waited for his rebuttal. It took a while. We hit some turbulence and the plane just fell 30 or 40 feet. We along with all of our inflight snacks were just floating. It was like being on that first big hill on a good roller-coaster in slow motion. It made our stomachs tickle. We laughed as we picked up our sodas, chips and sandwiches. We check in with the next control tower, get our new stats and instructions, make our course adjustments and settle in again. He looked at me and said, “You know, you may be on to something. There are true

things that exist that you can’t see. I agree, love—very real and true. Hate as well and ‘Out of all the emotions, only sadness has such an exquisite luster,’ very real and true and not seen with the naked eye and like the propeller, they have the ability to move things and cause events to change.” That caused me to ponder what other forces are real and true that you can’t see. In the book of Kings there is a conversation that takes place between God and a whole host of Angels. God asks, “Who can entice Ahab to go to war to his death?” There were many suggestions, first this thing then that. Then one Angel stood up and said, “I can, I can do it.” And God asked, “How? How will you accomplish this?” The Angel said, “I will go down and be a lying sprit to the prophets.” And God said, “Make it so.” Ahab had his prophets inquire of the Lord if he would be successful in battle. His prophets were lied to by the lying spirit. Ahab died in battle.

Intriguing how many other times a day this same scenario might play out in each individual life and situation around the world. How things you can’t see, things beyond your control or scope of awareness could be propelling you to act or think or feel a certain way, forces unseen but real and true.

We reached the airport in Virginia and Jay was lining up our approach. It was rainy and foggy. Fully confident in his skills and abilities I asked, “Which way is the runway?” He replied, “It’s right in front of us.” I could see the altimeter. It was down to 3000 feet. I adjusted myself nervously in my seat. We descended another 500 feet. I said, “…uh, Jay—I don’t see no runway.” He said nervously and abrasively, “It’s there! It’s there! You just got to trust the instruments.” We descended another 500 feet. I could see he was putting on his best poker face. It was a small airport and we couldn’t even see any lights! By now we could usually see lights! I looked at him intently. He looked nervously back at me. He had been a pilot since he was 17 but I had never seen that look on his face. 1000 feet left, no runway in view. 500 feet before we land the ground appears. Smooth landing. We both had tears in our eyes. “Sometimes,” he said through tears, “you just got to trust the instruments.” We both laughed. I nearly shit my pants.