Porne

.And it hurt like the last sunset the Earth was to see, hurt like a mother's love, and all the unanswered prayers.
He couldn't believe as much as I couldn't, what he has done, he had to turn himself around and make amends. He said no longer could he run; from himself, from God, from real life.  I remembered when it all began or rather when I really began to know.
The quickening in his groin excited him as he knew it would, as he expected and anticipated all the time now, erections in public began as an occasional happenstance, or at least that’s what he told me, and what once existed as a delitescent entity quickly surpassed its nascent state to become rather a problem. The erection began ruling his life. Every time he felt arousal it would come with a host of lustful prurient thoughts that brought whatever he was doing to a halt, and the times where he did welcome them he became a life-force solely for the pursuit of satisfaction.

The public toilets were regular places he would go to masturbate when he felt the urge to in public, for self control and patience had long abated and fled the scene. He would quickly enter the nearest public toilet in whatever condition it was in- often atrocious- to lace his hands in his underwear, pull out his throbbing manhood and dive head first into the licentious playground of his mind. Four walls were all he needed, sometimes even less as he long mastered the art of masturbating himself with as little noise as possible due to years of sharing a room with his brother. Facial expression and vocal utterance had long been honed and hammered into precision so he was able to only relinquish his mastery and control when he wished to, as in when nobody was around.  He told me the most daring time he practiced this was once in Business class, in the class he stared at the teacher; at the teacher’s buttocks, lips and chest and he found himself leaning deeper in his seat and his ears heated up. His imagination was so active at the time that he was able to transport himself from his seat into the arms of said teacher, to give and receive pleasure. As the lesson continued he remained stoic and impassive in every way, and on his row in the middle of the class he placed his jacket over his lap and slipped his hand just at the top of his bulge where the zipper touched his piece and began to gently rub the mound. The teacher continued and him the student continued to face the front with his notepad on the table and his eyes looking directly into the teacher’s as his hand tugged and pulled and rubbed and snipped his bulge so very calmly, like an undersea volcano stirring and erupting far beneath a calm sea.  He climaxed after a few heady minutes but no semen came out, and after that the shame came.

Oh the shame, he used to come to me with tears christening the banks of his eyes and tell me all about the shame of the post orgasmic high; after pleasure and satiation flowed and ebbed away and left a desultory lull, after the pleasure came the emptiness, he didn’t even deserve the sheer purpose of pain.  What am I if not a craven? I read the ruminations he had in the notebook he carried around with him everywhere. Am I anything better than an animal? Why does the sun look upon me so?  I shall cast myself into the shadows and be nevermore. He could be so dramatic sometimes. The grief took overtook him and rendered him a wretch,  the biblical sackcloth and sawdust strewn upon his very aura as he wandered about town wondering how could spend so much energy seeking out the perfect visual and aural stimulation. He often had no energy at work often times but he wondered how when the lust caught him he could climb out of bed and turn on his laptop, the sky bled red as his nostrils flared and all his blood and life essence flowed into his nether regions, and such precious time slipped away.

Time enjoyed wasting is not time wasted. Oh true a quote I told him, but you cannot live purely for enjoyment alone, like how man cannot live on bread alone, and just like that you have allowed yourself to become enslaved by the pursuit of your happiness so it is still time enjoyed wasting?

The Porn. Oh the porn the porn the porn! He admitted when he was little and innocent a mere kissing scene on television would be as fleeting as the sun passing over a mountain in the distance. The vagaries of puberty quickly changed that and he soon found himself throbbing as any casual display of intimacy he happened to come across induced in him the dull sweet ache spreading from his groin and simmering through his body, even before he learnt how to relieve himself. He considered himself a late bloomer though, as his friends began to divulge of their conquests and sexual extracurricular endeavours he found himself tearing out the back pages of magazines and leering at the suggestive pictures of the sexual advice columns and the intimate personal adverts.  He didn’t need to go into full detail as to what happened when he found the adult erotica section in a neighbourhood library, but a lot of books had pages torn out and the least conspicuous corner of the library was always occupied.

The commonplace probably graduated to the perverse around the time he acquired the internet, no longer did he have to tear out erotica pages to peruse over in the dead of night under the covers or in the toilets but now he had undisclosed access to a myriad of adult content. He rapidly became entrenched in the salacious cornucopia of explicit sex and the conventional melted as the fetish and extreme took over.  On one of our drives we were discussing something mundane and he started talking about his neighbour who he interacted with on social media.  He said the woman posted to everybody about how she discovered her husband’s sordid and extensive porn collection. “I don’t want you to judge me”; “We are long beyond the point of judgement “I replied.  He told me how the woman exposed her husband by posting full pictures of his porn stash she found in their garage. I was long past shock at his behaviours at this point so my eyes only rolled a little as to what he told me next. He said that he saw that post and read how the woman dumped the porn stash in the rubbish only that same afternoon, he waited till the evening and under the cover of darkness transported himself to the neighbour’s house and began rifling as methodologically and succinctly as he could through his neighbour’s rubbish bins until he found the content he was looking for.

“You mean you actually went through someone’s trash just to look for somebody else’s porn when you had your own?” Yes he replied, it gave him a kick to see what kind of porn somebody else was into, just because it was out of the ordinary, the high he achieved from that alone made him even neglect his own porn for a while; he knew he had become what most would call a profligate ; a pervert.  He didn’t care though, as masturbation and porn became the forefront of his world, his day to day became mundane as anything that was taking his time and attention away from glaring onto the images and video content of adult sexual acts became defunct and unnecessary. His friends looked forward to social events and he anticipated when he could get home and seek out the latest videos or the next edge, kink or fetish to engross himself into; the nastier the better.  I looked at his mobile phone and his laptop and it seemed one could not so much as search for any letter of the alphabet without some type of porn coming up and e really didn’t care; Nobody really touches my things so I don’t give a fuck.  

That was a while ago now, and his nonchalance and odd bravado had quickly transformed to woe and despair, as intensely as he craved his next hot orgasm, he dreaded the post orgasmic condition, the shame at how much time and energy he spent in pursuit of this and the fact that he realised it was tearing him away from his regular life and what was supposed to be a support system for his libido was becoming the slave castle, his hands the chains.  Desire for human contact was still present of course but the relatively easier road of self regulation blurred his intents, so speaking to somebody seemed too high a tedium than interacting with the World Wide Web and grunting quietly into his bed sheets.  I am not a person anymore I am no man I may as well be rock, lower than water,  wrapped in air ; slave to all. For all I do is move out of duty; with force but without purpose. I cannot let myself fade away to this quagmire, if I lose myself it would be unforgiveable.  Again with the dramatics, I blinked several times as I closed the notebook of his irregular thoughts and peered out of the window. I told him the usual rhetoric; He was using gratuitous self pleasure and overindulgence in sex to hide and distract from real life and face his responsibilities, and just like people who eat out of boredom and for emotional rather than physical sustenance you are overindulging in porn for all the wrong reasons which are ultimately stealing your life essence and ruining you as a person.

We drove to the office of the counsellor he has been seeing for the past two weeks, I waited outside the office and when he came out he had a dark expression on his face, he was pensive and taciturn for the rest of the day. That evening I decided to do him a favour and cook him dinner as he was clearly going through a difficult time.  We sat down to a juicy dinner of sweet potato curry followed by sweet potato muffins and sweet potato cheesecake.

“You know it could all be so simple but you have to try” I told him as he sat opposite me at the dinner table, he solemnly nodded as I explained how he couldn’t let himself be defeated by this scourge on his soul. It was good he was able to discuss his issues with me I told him so he could get help and not keep everything bottled up. He stood up and went to the bathroom for a long time, enough time for me to clean up the kitchen.

I settled myself down on the chair and wondered what was taking him so long. I decided to just leave him be and must have fallen asleep because I awoke with a start and the distinct feeling that some time had passed. The room was dark and silent and an odd feeling of dread overtook me.  There was somebody in the room just behind the sofa, I could sense it.

He turned on the light and relief washed over me, it was only him. “What’s going on? Where have you been why didn’t you-“My sentence caught in my throat as I took in the full view of what was in front of me. He was standing still with something in his hands, I couldn’t quiet see as his hands were closed but the main issue I was concerned with was the amount of blood drenching his entire lower body. He stepped forward and I jumped out of my chair and moved towards him, eyes bulging, pulse racing I moved towards this oddly calm boy and the pool of blood that trailed from his groin onto the floor like a perverted red carpet.

“What have you done” I meant to shout the words but they came out so small. He looked at me with glassy eyes and opened his red palms blotted with viscous material and presented me his gift.

“I did what you said mother, I made myself clean” My son started laughing and handed me his severed penis.