Give me a second. I'm parched, giving one's life story in increments and with slight deviations in a chronological order makes my mouth dry. I've always had the need to keep myself hydrated. It's not easy talking about her. Despite how things ended I still love her. You want me to become emotional huh? I'm already admitting to the murder, there seems to be no point in discussing this. The parents do not receive closer when they see her rotting corpse. I think it's been what five years, maybe longer. Memory can be so malleable. I do not think I could even recall the place to where I buried her. They would never forgive me, I won't need it. Their daughter was not an angel, she was manipulative and cunning. When you spend time with people long enough you take into account their mannerisms. When there was something she could not attain without my assistance she would badger me. An example of this was for a gray boxer dog. I personally have no affinity for pets, and in vice versa. When I said no she would become passive aggressive in future discussions. It could be as simple as purposely burning my eggs at breakfast or biting off some of my pubic hairs during sex. The dog was not the point despite my feelings, it was the principle. You can't always get what you want.

"So Jack, you wanted to tell your significant other that not everything was attainable. Did you provide your point of view with physical reinforcement?"

You want to know if I hit her. When did the abusive nature of our relationship take place? That's not simple, I liked to slap her ass during coitus. The choking occurred during the end of our run. Both of us felt like we were going to kill each other. She was not as strong as me yet it did not stop her from trying to make an indent in my chest. In the end I'm still standing and she's six feet in the dirt naked, cold, rotting away, and alone. I wonder if I'll ever see her again.

"Do you believe in an afterlife Jack?"

No. I believe that when a person dies, that is it. Now, will that be the case? I have no idea, no one does. Personally death does not sound that bad, it's the method one chose to reach the end. Using razor blades in a bathtub filled with hot water can result in a soothing death but I personally want the death to be quick. And also that seems to be the way a woman goes out to be honest. Or she would overdose on some antidepressants. I remember when she made me a cake for my birthday the following month after our first encounter. It was marble cake with multicolor frosting. The design included a jester wearing a red and black outfit and cap with a white diamond pattern spread across her gown. The design was better than its taste though, the cake wasn't to bad but the frosting was to sweet.

…

"My name is Caleigh Sullivan."

"Hi, my name is Jack Sterling." Such a sweet yet devious smile. Caleigh was on the desk with her legs spread open. Thin black laced panties were covering her wet cunt. She took my right hand and placed it on her pussy. Her eyes looked up to mine and asked if this was my first time with a girl. "Yes, actually I never kissed a girl before." I could not help but be honest with her you know, my hand was literally rubbing her pussy. I was horny back then at the age of 17, what male teen isn't? Although I did try to take hold of my sexuality. I would blow my load from around three to four times a day on average. I never really would look into the habit but it could merely be chalked up to just teen boys jerking off nonstop is normal. Despite a physical lack of experience I practiced on a pillow, cut a hole inside to simulate a vagina. It became a tool which could be easily accessible. It did not last long due to me forgetting to wash the pillow. I had to buy a new pillow from Kmart before my mother noticed.

...

To my attraction towards women, along with girls my own age, I found older women irresistible as well. A couple years earlier when I was about thirteen one of my mothers friend was living with us. At the time my father was out of the house during the divorce and worked overseas as a translator. My mother worked for the state of Washington, particularly the Washington State Department of Social and Health Services. Where my mother and I lived in the suburbs outside Olympia whereas her friend lived in Lacey. Now it is not the farthest distance but she, Cammy were not well endowed financially. Cammy had a couple of marriages, a litter of kids that were already grown up, and personal issues dealing anxiety. She was in her mid forties and was very chesty. Curly brown hair with flowing hints of red in them were so beautiful. She would not have been fantasized by many teenage boys but I frankly found her to be a very attractive woman. God that hair, she looked like Barbara Streisand. At the beginning of her visits I resented them. I preferred to live home either alone or with my mother. My mother Elizabeth Sterling is a humble and modest individual. She was also caring and helpful to her friends. Cammy was considerate to me, she already felt like she was stepping bounds asking us to stay at our like a second home, driving back and forth five days a week adds up and the price only seems to be going up.

The first time she stayed the night I was in a rotten mood personally, in 1960 I was thirteen and in the midst of my parents divorce. Never telling anyone at school not that I had anyone to talk to, I felt ashamed and suffered from major depression. I knew my mother began to tell her friends which angered me slightly. It was no one else's fucking business, family is one thing but friends is another. That night my mother was feeling a bit under the weather and went to bed early. The walls in our house were very thick, even so she closed her door to be sure. Cammy was in the shower preparing to go upstairs and go to sleep, or at least I thought so. The door opened and she walked into the living room. I was taken aback by what she was wearing. She wore a lavender colored nightie with small straps despite the size of her breasts. The nightie was also thin in terms of visibility. I was able to her body in full, not just breasts but her vagina as well, her pubic hair was trimmed. The nightie looked a little tight due to her chest though, I think I've always preferred tits than ass. She asked me whether I wanted to go upstairs with her to talk about the divorce.

"Did you take her up on that offer?"

Yes.