My infatuations

By: Skull Dander

My Youth

I don't know what the hell went wrong. You see, all through my youngster years, not being clothed was no big deal. Sex was different - I would get a hard-on while my mom was patting on my butt and she would push me away, but then later on when I was having homosexual relations, neither my mom or dad said a damn thing against it. To say the least, with my being married now for about eight years to a little girl (she's a half-year older, but damn she looks like she's 16 acts like she's 10) I have had one hell of a screwed-up sex life.

Sex life? Despite all that and a drop-dead knockout of a wife, my sex life right now is bullshit. She is anti-pedophilia in the sense that my site [The Left Handed Norseman] puts forth. She is deeply maternal and will play and kiss on a child as soon as she has the chance, but sex with one is something that disgusts her, and now that she knows my story, she is no longer very interested in at least going through the motions in order to satisfy me.

On the brighter side: I was anywhere from 5 to 13 - I don't very vividly recall my age at these moments, but it was ongoing throughout my childhood. Little girls were always my favorite, but later on I had to settle for the plain, brown wrappers (males). Heh. Little girls have always been around for me - just not as intimately as would have been needed to provide something substantial in my life.

When I was maybe around 5 years of age myself, my sister had a particular liking to me. She took me into the bathroom one day in order to take a bath with me. She was maybe 13 at the time. She let me touch her aroused clitoris, but that's as far as it went - well, what did she expect? I had no idea what sex was, let alone any feelings for it yet. Now, don't get that wrong: I started having sexual feelings on a full-throttle basis only a few years after that.

When I lived in Virginia, there were these little girlies that lived behind us. One of them was a very promiscuous little girlie and apparently had an erotic relationship with her much shyer sister. Heh heh. Too bad I was only 6 or 7 and didn't even have the change to jump on that due to their mother always catching us in the act. There were a couple of instances that made those two stand out: one was when they let me see the inside of their butt cheeks in the bushes behind their house. Another was when the older, promiscuous one initiated the famous 'Playing Doctor' scene. I never really liked their mother.

That's when I started getting the message that sex was bad.

There was this one little girl I've mentioned in a recent essay that liked me very much indeed - her favorite things were to ask me questions... and to comb my hair... oh god! that was pure ecstasy until her fat-ass mom came in and told her to cut it out. I hated that fat lump. The little one was 3 years old if I recall correctly and I was maybe 10 or so. She was an absolute cutie.

That was when I was being 'baby-sat' for the days when my parents could not be home. There was another little girl around the same time with another sitter. We were all playing hide-and-go-seek... well, what better chance then to catch one of those rabbits? And I did! I caught the little one behind a shed and promptly de-pantsed her. She didn't like that... so I did it again. My goodness, she was pretty.

The Little Ones and the Big Ones

After that, the nightmare of public schooling really took it's hold and I fell into a seriously depressed state. No female would have anything to do with me. The only sex I got was from other, sex-starved males and while some of those acts were nice, I would have to say that they were not nearly as good as what a female could have been. All of it was self-denial - I was firmly attracted to females and that little vixen from high-school (Amy Wear, if you are out there: I even bothered to tell a psychiatrist that I'd like to have you in my Christmas stocking) really split a desk or two with my woody when she passed by. Oh god! What a Whore of Babylon if I Could Only Have Screwed Her Right There in Front of Everyone!!!

You don't know what pain is until some radiant angel walks by you with a miniskirt on and thin (if any at all) panties on that make her look like she's wearing only a towel... and you can't have any. To sit there in the back of the classroom (so people wouldn't fuck with me anymore than was necessary) with her up there touching her toes for everyone... the pain... the pain...!

I was working for my landlady at one time. She had adopted a little, blonde vixen of maybe 15 years old at the time I met her. The vixen knew I liked her, but I have no idea what else she was thinking. I could swear that she tested me one time to see just how attracted I was to her when she came into the kennel one day in order to conveniently talk to me. For a weirdo like me to have a little, extremely attractive girl come in - who as I had been told was experienced with being pimped - and very pretty-like ask me how my day is going is a sure sign that some little girl would have screwed me right there, if I had asked her to. (Well, I can dream, right?) Nothing happened - fortunately, I was still happily married at the time and dog shit did not exactly turn me on.

It was around that time that I started getting suspicious of my true attraction towards females - any female, so long as they were intelligent. I had penpals at that time - four of them, and all female. No, males would speak to me. The females were, however, very interested in me and I didn't have a clue as to why. My wife was thoroughly jealous! I still exchange emails with one of them now: Lynda Stevens! God she's pretty! And very mature and very adult at that - it still turns me on. What the hell does that make me? A femophile? I like children and want to get at their no-nos just the same, but I can't be burdened with the denial that I'd like the same from grown women.

Little ones are little - you can hold them and make them squeal. Big girls on the other hand - I want to be held by them, so they can make ME squal. Make sense?

My Infatuations

I sit and watch children. I contemplate what it would be like to be found special by one of them. To hold one and find a profound love that has been stripped away from me by this horrible society is in itself an insanity. Indulgence becomes compulsion and then into the abyss of obsession. But there I am. Sitting. And watching. And wishing.

Oh. Children! Those beauties remarkable! To sit and gaze into the horzion to watch the sun set into the distant yawn of sky and dawn, does not compare to one small child. The sun rises and fall - we knows of it. We do not know what will happen with a child. What will they learn and do? What can they teach us in our old and wizened wisdom that that the mirror shows as Fool?

This world seems to hate itself and it teaches it's children the same. Blanket laws that keep men in prisons for a crime that harmed no one are not the sights that make this world a paradise. And sex? Have you even been a child? I'm sure you have, well hear this you malignant cancer: I was a child and so have been many others and sex was something that we thought about and portrayed.

The taboo upon children, just as anything that we are taught is wrong, is wrong, is only something to press us on. It sparkles with delight, does it not? Oh, come now mothers: tell me with truth that you have not wanted that little bottom sitting against your bare labia - what a delight!

Come and get me and there will be a thousand more standing in my place.

The Beauty of Children

When one thinks of 'the beauty of children', one often reverts to old cliché of a park filled with laughing, playing, dancing children all dressed casually or in Sunday-school clothes. Such an image can move me as can many infatuations but it is not their true beauty. If you want to see true beauty, then you have to talk with them and play with them yourself. I keep chancing upon pictures of playing children - without adults, as if they don't belong in such pictures. An adult should be present in order to experience how it is to be with children - this isn't accomplished by looking on from a distance. And white children in clean, colloquialized clothing are not beautiful - they are an abomination.

I remember well the tidbits of innocent wisdom that I've heard only from children. Telling me - me! those things that I did not realize. That is where the beauty is. When they are open and unregulated by the idiocies of this world of slave owners. I remember well again the few, short times when a gentle, little hand caressed me simply for the sake of doing so - because it felt good to touch another person who did not mind it in the least. I remember sitting there enrapt as one little girl carefully combed and combed and combed my hair...

I'm accosted. This world has shown a distinct hatred for humanness - for being and feeling what you do. This world prefers automatons over living entities. All of the beauty of children is cast aside in a jealousy for what adults have not. Jealousy! Why are children clothed? In order to hide the beautifulness of their naked bodies. Why is the innocence displayed by children cast aside as mere foolishness? In order to do away with the constant reminder that children are blameless. And why are children silenced? To hide from adult ears those wise things that spill forth from innocent lips.

Pedophilia - the outright love of children is something of scorn in this world. Adults are jealous...

The Beauty of Adults?

I am guilty. I also love women. Women, when properly 'enacted' themselves are sensuous beasts - catlike, seductive, their sent entices and teases the male, and I am male. I have seen women bounce and play just as children do - there is a child to be had in many an adult, and that mesmerizes me as would a child.

Cat-like women use their gracefulness to tempt and tease and therefor tend to get their way with me. That I find is a weakness in me... but damn, what a wonderful weakness! To have this slinky, curvy thing stretching and purring around me, whispering in my ear to... "...please take the garbage out..." Well! Out the door I go and I'm happy about it!! What could be better than to be waylain by another and not ,ind in the least? What evil! Such purity in diabolicalness indeed, and I've seen the same in children, have you not?

I find one thing that stands above children, and that is the fact that intellectually speaking, I've met no child that could match me. In one way or another, my experiences and trainings are something that children cannot show in greater - but a woman? a woman can do that. A woman can show me things on equal if not greater ground in all areas. And there is that one statement that sums this up: "There is only one thing that the Devil fears - a witch."

As conniving and scoundrellious as the Devil himself, there is the woman. Equals is what I'm speaking of - in some cases the better. The only women that tend to strike my fancy are the ones that can be outright manipulative - and loving - as I can be. The woman: the cat. Meow.

And the Child Standing over the Adult

Unlike adults, children are a clean page - there they are willing and able to be filled with new thoughts and ideas, and i find that highly lacking in adults. Adults are caught up in work and looking sociable - so much that they throw away their childhood in favor of 'better things'. And there is the child. The child is so much more of a god than any adult. They are quick to learn and point out what is flawed, and only because they've noticed it - not because there is harm in their hearts, or because they've been beaten into fear so as to force themselves to learn quickly.

Children are unspoilt by this world. They are new. What I find with even the best of adults - even with myself - is a decided group of scarring. Ugly scars and tender spots - whelps and boils cover the 'bodies' of adults, and yet that is not nearly the case with children. Who could honestly help not being enrapt with a child's cleanness of spirit? Yes, indeed: adults are vipers and are jealous of what they see in children, and this is due to the fact that they cannot accept what they have been through and have done and therefore no longer feel the sting of their lives. They could have that back, but very few actualize it.

Adults are used and mangled items. They are second hand goods. Why would I prefer a used up rag over a clean beach towel? Children are newcomers to this decrepit planet - adults don't like newcomers. Children are commonly both overprotected from doing what they see is best and beaten down into 'proper upstanding citizens'. How I hate what adults do to children.

Adults. Lazy, do-nothings that can only feign having the energy that children have. Children are filled with the prime mover and if allowed to continue in that new condition, they would outclass and outgun any adult of today. Well - adults can't have that happening, can they? Not very well if they want to keep Earth. Like I said: adults are deeply jealous of children.

What Poor Solution

The human social disease is what has made things of childhood in the adult world a thing to be feared if not outright outlawed. The pedophile must contend with this every time he or she wishes to partake of the 'forbidden fruit' of even conversing with children on their level - if they were to play and carry on as would a child with other adults, then they would be seen as idiots. And never even bring up the subject of sex - children with sexual feelings or not, this world will label an acting pedophile as a child molester or rapist, and then the child's willingness is never taken inti account; after all: children are irresponsible and not to be heard, even if they are right and individuals who should be given their own right to choose for themselves.

It seems that not only are children relegated to the place of indentured furniture or pets, but they are also relegated to the position of slaves in many cases. And just like the valued good, if another person dares to touch or even steal, then that person is a thing of evil and must be dealt with in the extreme. Such hypocrites are adults to say that a child is a wonderful thing and in the same breath to tell them what they can and cannot do. Such fearful misers are adults to lash out against that would even look at their children - their parakeets on leashes - for fear of hearing them sing for others.

Sex is the tip of the issue. Sex with children - whether the children understand what they are doing and are willing or not, is considered evil by the mental patients of the world. These adults do not care what the truth is, so long as they get their way. Adults are the cause of the problem - no, not the symptom and they would cause blame upon the Devil, but it is adults themselves that keep children, whether grown or young, from being who and what they are. The sheep are afraid of sex. The sheep are afraid of children. When children and sex are used in the same breath, all the sheep lift their eyes in terror and will come up with any and every excuse to trample to death those who are blameless... in order to remove what they fear.

It is sad. To have those dreams, but no other outlet than the 'self-service pump'. In a world where the dragons are straw men and they walk around in shining armor, there is little that a pedophile can do to have Heaven on Earth. There is the choice that most pedophiles make, and that is: survival. Sure, they could gratify themselves, but more than likely only at the cost of their lives... well, at least in the US and those countries like her. I don't act upon children out of the same fear: if I did, I would have sheep horns up my ass in seconds. It is the case that I do not have very much to do with children or adults at all any more.

Masturbating our cares away. So what's wrong with that? In this world, making our wishes a reality is extremely difficult - not impossible, just more difficult than many of us can handle. Ritual magic is, in many cases today, nothing more than masturbation for the sake of getting the thoughts out of our heads so we can get on with things and find some fun while being twisted upon the rack.

source: 'My infatuations' by Skull Dander; Original articles: "My Story" and "My Infatuation"; Edited (and translated into Dutch) by C.C.; Dutch title: "Mijn bevliegingen"; OK Magazine, no. 74; August 2000