Afraid Of The Darkness

As far back as I could remember I was really scared of the dark. I could not sleep at night unless I slept with my bedroom door wide open, so that the hall light could shine brightly into my room. I never even allowed my hands or legs dangle over the edge of the bed or even exposed from below the bedclothes - just in case the monster under my bed would get me.

My bedroom was very small, just enough room for a bed, a small desk and an old dark wood wardrobe. The best thing about my room was my bay window with its broad windowsill, where I would draw in my sketchbook until I was told that I had to go to sleep.

I would always try to stay awake as long as I could - sometimes my mother and father would let me sleep in their room, but as I got a bit older, this soon stopped. I would tell them about the monster that lived under the bed, but they would tell me not to be such a baby, that it was time to grow up - there was no such thing!

I told my mom that I heard things move in the night and that I could sometimes hear whispers from under the bed. She told me that I had an over-active imagination and that it was probably the sounds from the television downstairs. They made a joke of it sometimes, saying that I was just a stupid kid. They just didn't understand.

At bedtime I would undress quickly, put my brightly coloured flannel pajamas on and jump onto the top of my bed, so that I never gave the monster the chance to reach up and grab me. Sometimes I would surround myself in my soft toys for protection. This was my fortress of the night and I had visions that it would protect me from the monster from the underworld beneath my mattress.

It was the night of my eleventh birthday when this all changed. I had heard the older boys at my school talking about sex and said that it felt like rubbing your penis with slippery soap in your hand. I thought I'd try it at home, before my mom and dad came home from work, but nothing much happened. Disappointed I dismissed the thought until that night in bed.

It wasn't even my bedtime, when I said to my parents that I felt tied and was going to bed. They were preoccupied watching television or something, so I went upstairs to my bedroom. I pushed the door closed to slip into my cosy flannel pajamas - but instead of opening the door again and slipping under the protective layer of bedding as I did every night, I stopped. My heart was racing a million miles an hour with the strangest thoughts - my pricklet tented the front of my PJs. I slipped my hand beneath the hemline of my pants and felt the tip of my small penis, which was wet with sticky fluids.

I pushed the door shut again, just to make sure it was securely closed. And turned the lights out. I felt weird, I had never done this before but for some strange reason I was not afraid. I stood in the dark for a few seconds, as my eyes grew accustomed to the low level of light. Everything was very quiet.

"Take them off' I heard a purring whisper from the darkness. "Take them off and lie down"...it was hypnotic. In a trance-like state, I slipped out of pajamas again, leaving them on the floor in heap beneath my feet, and lay naked on top of my bed. The dark silence was buzzing around me. My penis was very erect and it felt very naughty being completely naked and erect - something I had never done before. "Touch it... touch yourself," the almost inaudible voice said. "Touch yourself".

It felt so weird and surreal. Like it wasn't my own hand, though I know it was. "Rub yourself, like you did today, only much slower"... the whisper ordered. I draw my foreskin back and forth slowly with my thumb and forefinger.

More sticky fluids leaked from the tip of my penis. "Taste it. Put your finger in your mouth..." it told me very persistently. I rubbed the fluids between my fingertips and then brought them to mouth. The taste was slightly salty, but not unpleasant. "Rub faster... rub it faster"... the faster I rubbed the more the sensation grew in my groin. Like tingling heat. I felt guilty, like breaking a law or doing something that you have been told is wicked or bad or evil. I wanted to stop, but my hand had a will of its own, rubbing my foreskin faster and faster.

Suddenly without warning my entire body began to shake. It was a tremendous shudder, like nothing I had ever felt before. More liquid shot from the tip of my penis, across my chest and face. Like a bolt of lightning or an uncontrollable electric shock? What had happened? I was panting heavily from the unexpected experience. I didn't understand what had happened. All I knew that this must be bad and that I should never do it again. What would Jesus think - he could see what I was up to. I was still trembling inside as I trying to catch my breath. It must be sinful, wrong and the shock I felt was a reminder not to repeat these actions and thoughts ever again.

The next evening took forever to come around. My penis had been hard at school all day, rubbing against the rough material of my school shorts. I must pray to Jesus and never repeat this terrible wicked thing. I must ask for his guidance, strength and forgiveness. If I don't ever do this again, could I please still go to heaven? The monster under my bed is very bad. It was the monster's fault. I must sleep with the light on for a few weeks to get over it.

But as night came, my penis couldn't wait to take me to bed. I quickly closed the door and didn't even bother with my pajamas. Turning the light off again... there it was that fantastic buzzing feeling of doing something taboo. I lay back on the cool material of my bedding, naked and eager to play with myself again. The urge built quickly and was unbelievable - unstoppable!

Taking my cock in my hand and rubbing it slowly at first, it felt so very wrong, but I didn't care. In fact it felt more fun because I knew that I shouldn't be doing this bad thing to myself. My dead relatives in heaven could see what I am up to. My grandmother would turn in her grave. My simple finger strokes, where replaces with an iron-fisted grip... squeezing hard on my thin cock shaft. It felt so nasty! My breathing became narrow and short as the erotic sensations built inside me.

"Put your finger in your bum while you rub yourself. Push it in further... that's it, doesn't it feel nice... why not think about your young friends... ahhh... all naked, rubbing themselves just like you... playing with their little cocks... wouldn't it be fun to watch each other do this... maybe rub each other... maybe suck each other..." These thoughts were just too much. I sprayed my cum across my chest and chin - when the shaking and trembling subsided. My monster hadn't finished yet... "Eat your spunk for me..." I gingerly tasted it, and then taking a small glob of cum I smeared it across my lips. I quickly fell asleep dreaming of things I could try to stick in my bum while I masturbated.

The next day was a complete blur... all I could think about was masturbation. I started to fantasize at school about my immediate circle of friends, wondering what it would be like to have sex with them, to suck them, to fuck them.

Night after night, the voice from beneath my bed filled my head with fantasies that seemed to get more and more bizarre, especially for one so young. When sex with boys seemed to get boring, I thought about being tied up and forced to participate in pagan sex rituals. A young boy, probably my age was tied between two vertical poles that resembled erect penises. "Suck him... knee before him and suck him till he spurts... drink his nectar..." The voice seemed to be emboldened by my eagerness to allow these thoughts to play out - and though only fantasy, it was as if I was a willing student.

Every night my thoughts and fantasies become more perverse than the one before. It was delicious! "Fuck him for me. Fuck his arse. Cum inside him." Yes, I thought... Fuck his unwilling arse. "Whisper it... say it out louder... I want to hear you say it..." my monster urged. I saw myself as a high priest overseeing a perverted rite... "Rape him, let the orgy begin..." it felt sexy just saying these profanities... the more perverted they were, the faster my heartbeat.

One night, I had forgotten to use the toilet and bladder was quiet full.

I was about to dress in my pajamas and run to the toilet down the hall, when the voice said to me, "Stop... don't waste it... I want you to pee in your hand and rub yourself..." This is weird I thought, but I did it. A small amount of pee dribbled out of the end of my erect cock - it was hard to pee when I was so excited. My heart beat faster - as fast as it did the first time I listened to the voice. This was sign. I liked the sensation of my wet fingers rubbing up and down my shaft. The smell was slightly sweet, but not too pungent. It felt dirty, disgusting and very nasty. Soon I had another earth-shattering orgasm - I was hooked.

After that I kept an old dirty towel under my bed - close to my monster. So he could smell how nasty I had been. I would lay it across my bedding before I lay down. "Piss over yourself for me... I am piss god... worship me with your urine... masturbate and piss-wank!" In my fantasy world, I was dancing naked around a huge phallus, urinating over myself and my nasty brotherhood of perverted boys. It was an all boy piss orgy, climaxing in the arse-rape an unfortunate sacrifice to our beloved Piss God! As my tribe of cannibalistic nymphomaniacs would descend upon our victim to consume his innocence, I would join them in chanting "SACRIFICE! SACRIFICE! SACRIFICE!".

I began to really dig the smell of urine on my skin whilst in my masturbatory trance. With one push too much, I pissed across my face. It tasted like salty water. I grabbed a glass from my nightstand and urinated into it, until the glass was half full. I put it to my lips and drank a few sips, then a mouthful... I feel so nasty. My cock exploded in screaming pleasure. "You honor your Piss God by the drinking his sacred elixir"...

At school, besides noticing boys, I had started to take an interest in girls. My friends and I started sharing porn magazines filled with tits, bum and vaginas. I dreamed of more elicit material - bestiality, boy-boy sex, golden showers - but I would have to wait a few years before getting my hands on what really turned me on. A chance comment by a young friend, Perseus, who I had fantasized about a more than a few times, was to introduce me to what he called a hermaphrodite - half boy, half girl. With both a penis and a vagina.

That night was dedicated to the worship a glorious phallic goddess, an hermaphrodite who would make me suck your tits, balls, cunt and enormous cock... then drink her piss ... "and eat her shit" the voice added. Sucking a nasty finger or two from my arse-play was quite a different thing to actually eating my arse fudge. But I let the fantasies build.

Voodoo drums beat loudly and a chorus of naked boys chanted "Piss God! Piss God! Piss God!" My dirty towel stunk of stale piss. I loved it. It was a full moon and the light illuminated my perverted games. I left the wardrobe door open, so that I could watch myself in the full-length mirror on the inside of the open door.

That day I had drawn a large penis effigy in my sketchbook. I turned to the page and propped it up to worship it. I had also secretly taken one of my mother's best crystal champagne flutes from the display cabinet. I quickly filled it with my dark yellow urine. With great concentration, I knelt over a small bowl. As my bowels opened, I felt a large turd slip from my arse. The smell was very exciting.

The concept of evil was something I was very familiar with and afraid of. Even my wildest fantasies had always known there was a line. But tonight I felt different. I felt darker. I welcomed this evil. "Drink your urine in worship of the Prince of Darkness" said the voice as I watched my reflection drink my strong piss brew. I studied myself as I pounded my young cock meat, head filled with evil and forbidden thoughts.

"You are now ready to taste the bitterness of Satan's feast..." Beating my cock as hard and fast as I could, I knelt down over my first offering to the devil. I felt slightly light headed as I inhaled deeply the disgusting vapors from my stinking feces... "Eat from the altar of your master... worship Satan..." the voice insisted.

My mind was filled with a demon orgy of evil children, just like me, all fucking and sucking on our unwilling victims, their pathetic cries for mercy were like music to our ears, as we saturated them in our hot urine and smeared their tear-stained faces with our stinking shit... as I drew my tongue along my nasty turd, the revolting taste triggered my orgasm and moaning lewdly, I sprayed my milky cum over the mirror.

I felt so exhausted and weak from the shear strength of my orgasm, and as my softening penis dipped with transparent fluids, I could not believed what I had done. It was as if the voice of Satan had called and I had answered... Hail Satan... after that night, my sexual thirst became unbearable. I could no longer wait until the night, to masturbate. Every opportunity alone, my hands would in my pants playing with my stiff rod.