A Memoir of a Lecherous Asshole

I always tell myself the last time is the last time, reassuring words of comfort for a confused and guilty conscience but loneliness is an affliction for someone who cant stand their own company nor shut out the voices in his own mind. My sexual appetite being the loudest voice of them all, demanding satisfaction from wherever and whoever.  
 
We are all a slave to something. For me, I am a slave to the carnal wants of pleasure, that rack my body with hunger pangs when I don't receive my fix. The demon that lives inside my mind, selfish, void of regret tells me I need to feed. I vindicate that non-rent paying asshole through a narrow focal point of my erect penis at whoever it's pointed at.  
 
That's where you came in. If you didnt have any before, I gave you purpose in my life.  
 
All fairy tales begin with a first glance, at which you had me, before it turns into a fixation. You had a curious smile worth investigating, a flash of your eyes gives away marital affiliation, the way you looked at me screamed  'available' - not that it would've mattered anyway and as my eyes run up and down your body, a single word manifest within the forefront of my thoughts, 'fuckable' - a word that echoes from my mind to the tip of my sword and I had every intention of running you through with it.  
 
Your eyes, although beautiful in it's own unique way betray you, for you wear your naivety like cheap mascara. Your body, sumptuous with all the right curves, a feast for the eyes but your body language is treasonous, for it tells me I had you at 'hello' and your beautiful heart shaped lips that I already envision in my mind's eye wrapped airtight around my penis, are seditious for they tell me I've already won you over, judging from the way you bite your lower lip as I whisper the things you want to hear.  
 
If you were a puzzle. Your difficulty setting would be considered so easy that a five year old could win.  
 
But with naivety comes a shade of sweetness that even I cant resist.    
 
You regale me with your ideals of love, commitment and your search for your very own star-crossed lover. Your account of love is sophomoric at best, to be expected from someone who had only found love twice in her young life but fell short for whatever reason. But you cling to the spirit of love regardless for it's ideal defines who you are in your approach to relationships, you are the type that gives yourself wholly. I appreciated your honesty for I can tell you were genuine from the amorous look in your eye that told me every word came from your heart dripped in truth but darling..  
 
.. Not all fairy tales have happy endings and most of them end tragically for all you did was give me ammo to use against you for psychology has always been my greatest weapon when manipulating the weak of mind, the idealist and the ignorant. I met you on a Tuesday and fucked you stupid that same week by Friday.  
 
Funny. I usually use alcohol to dissolve inhibition but you were constantly inebriated by cheap poetic words I gave little thought in it's construction.  
 
Ill never forget when you told me how you hated getting fucked from behind because you preferred looking at who you were making love to in the eye the whole time - which sounds beautiful - despite that, I always laughed as I always finished you from behind with my hands using your shoulders for more leverage.  
 
I came to detest you as fast as I was able to undress you. I cant quite put my finger on it but in words fellow lecherous men would understand, you had robbed me of the chase.  
 
But despite my reservations about you, I loved you the way you loved me but as I had explained, my love burns as fast as how fire burns through a pint of gasoline. There was nothing wrong with your purity of heart, or how everything about your beliefs has deep roots within the ideals of romance nor was there anything peculiar of your worship of Eros except you were just born in the wrong century.