Dear Reader,
Welcome to my Carnal Chronicles. You'll naturally find out more about me as The Chronicles progress, but you'll note the word 'carnal' in the title, which gives you a clue as to their main focus. I can't promise they'll be in the exact order of conquest, but I'll do my best to connect the dots. I mean, let's face it, the order of things isn't why you're here anyway, I'll bet.
It wouldn't be possible to share the details of every single lay I've had. That would take up far too much time and paper. Instead, what you'll find here is a selection of what I consider to be my most memorable carnal moments and the stories surrounding them, curated for their significance and of course, covering the smorgasbord of raunchy pleasures I've been lucky enough to experience.
You see, if there's anything I'm an expert in, it's sexual activity. Well, sure, the inner workings of the legal system, too, but I'd rather stab myself in the eye with a pen than spend my spare time writing about that.
So no, I'm not a sexologist, and yes, I'm a lawyer. But more than anything, I do love to fuck. I've always loved to fuck, and I believe we're all born to fuck.
In fact, I think fucking is the meaning of life.
When we strip it all back, we're here to procreate. It's our purpose. Just like our distant ancestor, the first single cell, divided itself however many hundreds of millions of years ago; we too, the fully formed organisms that are human beings, mammals, and at the end of the day, animals, are wired to ensure the survival of our species through spreading our very own DNA.
That's what the tingling in our loins is all about, and indeed, it directs us to our sole purpose.
Eating, drinking, sleeping, earning money, forming complex societies, worshipping supernatural beings, marriage, and dare I say it, falling in love, are all just processes geared towards keeping us alive and in the right social constructs for fucking 'appropriately.' But you see, intelligent animals that we are for inventing various forms of birth control, we can harness the divine enjoyment of that act without procreating, and just enjoy the wild ecstasy that comes from letting go and submitting to the burning primal yearnings of the flesh.
So yes, it's true, I've had many a fuck. Too many I've been told, by some judgemental others. But hey, screw them.
Well, some I would, some I wouldn't, some I have.
I may indeed be a sex addict, as has often been suggested, but I don't feel the need for a formal diagnosis. If I am a fuckaholic, I'm happy to live with it, despite the trouble it's caused me at times.
My preoccupation with sex isn't just about the orgasm or the load release, either, by the way. That's just a wonderful cherry on top. It's about the excitement, the rush, the chase, the emotion, the drama that comes along with it. The whole process from beginning to end is like a drug, with all the exhilarating come ups, intense peaks and shattering come downs involved.
So, why am I sharing the history of my key sexual experiences with you anyway?
Well, for a start, I like to write. Love it, in fact. Along with my law degree, I doubled in Arts at university and majored in English Literature and Creative Writing, just for fun. Writing is a cathartic release for me, almost as good as sex. And for me, words paint a picture sexier than any camera can. Men may be labelled as 'visual creatures,' but we have imaginations as well.
I particularly enjoy the art of the memoir, too. We can all learn a lot from the lives of others. Now, many people would label me successful when they refer to my career, but I'm not famous, so it's not like I have that helping me onto the New York Times bestseller list. Who wants to read about law, anyway?
Boring.
But I do think every person has a unique life story with interesting tales to tell. And as far as I'm concerned, my most interesting tales relate to sex.
Finally, the idea that others - that you - might get off on the details of my carnal exploits, well, that gets me off too. It's like one big literary orgy. And I'm a fan of any type of orgy.
I should mention in advance that I've burned a few people in my time, but I never meant to hurt anyone. I've been burned plenty myself, too. You'll read all about these things here. I'm a flawed human being, just like everyone else is, but I do hope you conclude that I'm not a bad guy. I respect all people, indeed all life.
And the older I've become, the more I see value to life outside the thick fog of my sexual desires. Perhaps that's why I'm writing this, too. To gain some clarity.
If love is a construct, as I suggest above, then it's one that I've always fallen for and still indeed crave. One that I've stuffed up plenty. Sex and love are often, though definitely not always, you'll find, very difficult to separate in my mind. So, although sex -- fucking - may be the core theme in these chronicles, as fundamental as it is to life, I imagine other aspects of the human condition will be reflected in my writings too. Not least, the nature of love.
Being a retrospective journal of sorts, I write this in the first person, as a man. I thus can't give you the exact thoughts and feelings of the other people involved in this story (their names changed, of course), as I can't get inside their heads. As much as I've learned about women physically, they can still very much be a mystery to me emotionally.
But that really is half the fun. Although this story is told from one standpoint of male sexuality, I absolutely aim to bring to life the female sexuality too, through the ways I've experienced it in all its raw splendour.
I won't tell you how old I am right now; you can try to figure that out for yourself. But yes, I'm still as randy as hell. I'm not going to begin this story with my very first sexual encounters; maybe they'll come later. But I've chosen this particular part of my story to begin with because of its significance.
Because of her significance, and the things she taught me about love and life and sex, for better and for worse.
She represents the moment in my life that I transitioned from awkward teenage boy to awakened young man. She may have been my second true love, and damn, my memories of her are etched into my brain and still make me cum buckets to this very day.
So please join me for Part One of these chronicles, the chapters of which mostly relate to my university years, when I was just a young buck. These were the years my innocence not only disappeared, but was swallowed up completely by the hedonistic deviant that I am today.
Well, so I've been called. But you know what? I just think I'm human, doing what I was born to do, in all its carnal glory.
Chapter 1
I couldn't wait to fly the nest and escape Meadow Beach, the small, coastal country town I'd grown up in. I mean, it's home, and the place is beautiful and will always hold a piece of my heart, wherever I am. But given its distance from Sydney, in which Lakeside University is situated, I took residence in the student lodgings there for the duration of my studies.
I'll never forget the sensory overload as I arrived on campus for my first year. Here in Australia, the university calendar begins in the height of summer. Do you know what that means? You guessed it. It means a feast for the eyes.
Skimpy tops, short skirts, short shorts; boobs, bellies, thighs and bums, barely contained, burgeoning into view everywhere. Young, nubile women, embracing the newfound freedom of adulthood. A feast of scantily clad female flesh, ripe for consumption, for those lads who learn how to crack the code, anyway.
It means roving male eyes. It means hidden erections, squashed up against bellies in undies or down along thighs, desperate for release amidst the musky, tangy scent that permeates an Aussie summertime university campus.
Now, coming from a small coastal farming town, in which the residents frequented the beach, I was no stranger to the sight of female flesh. But the sheer number of girls, the variety of shapes, sizes and colours here on campus, was overwhelming.
Jason and I were sitting next to each other in the lecture theatre on our first day of classes, me in a seat next to the aisle. It was our first lecture for Literature Foundations.
Jason wasn't a big reader, to be honest, unlike myself, but he'd decided to enrol in the same electives as me. He'd been my best mate since kindergarten and all throughout our schooling in Meadow Beach. We were more like brothers.
We were stoked to find out that we'd both made it into the same Law/Arts course at Lakeside, and had rented the same dorm room to inhabit. It made the move to the big city without our families seem far less daunting, and we were brimming with excitement for the adventures we'd share together in the world beyond Meadow Beach.
The lecture had already begun when she hurried past me down the aisle, panting anxiously. It was the sweet yet distinctive smell of vanilla and spice that hit me first, followed by a flash of blonde hair, styled in a messy bun, a white singlet top, a short, pleat, navy-blue skirt, and heeled white sandals, strapped around a pair of delightfully delicate ankles that led up to her sculpted porcelain calves.
She took her seat, two rows in front of me, on the opposite edge of the aisle. It was far enough forward that I wasn't in her line of vision, but she was smack-bang in mine.
As she sat down and crossed her legs, the skirt's hem slipped back around her waist, revealing the most incredible set of smooth, golden legs I'd ever seen. In fact, they were so bare that I could see where the back of her thigh curved to become her rounded buttock, which was scarcely covered by the elastic edge of her white, bikini cut knickers. I had to pull my tongue back in when I noticed the dimples that had formed in the exposed side of her plush butt cheek, as it squashed into its seat.
My cock swelled immediately, and my balls began to tingle. It was such a fucking tease.
Jason obviously shared the view, too, as he elbowed me in the ribs and sniggered. "Oiy, check that out," he whispered loudly, pointing noticeably.
I slapped his hand away and hissed, "Shut up dude!"
The girl turned around and met my gaze, half frowning. I went beetroot red and smiled faintly, as her eyes met mine.
"You fucking idiot," I murmured at Jason.
