I have photos of all my lovers. I either took the pictures with my own camera or they gave them to me.

I have four photo albums filled with them. Sexy, beautiful black women.
With huge red X’s over their faces.
Those were my Ex Files.

There were Ex Files in my year books. From junior high to high school. I still have them, put up somewhere in the storage closet.

People smiling, laughing, and frowning in their pictures.

With big red X’s over their faces.

Meaning they got the Mark of the Freak. I fucked them and left them.

They were forever branded with the big red X. Ten ladies from the cheerleading team withsmall red X’s on their magnificently gorgeous faces.

We didn’t speak or know each other during school hours. But during the freak-comes-out-at-night hours, from 8 PM until 2 AM, we got it on fiercely, like two dogs.

I had an orgy with four of the cheerleaders, and two women from the track team also stopped by and got busy with me.

Beingthat I was the only man, I tried like hell to handle all that pussy. I did a superb job. That’s how my father raised me.

Being from Alabama, he raised me to fuck ‘em and leave ‘em. He did my mother that way. She didn’t seem to mind being dogged.

And even though she was my mother, if she didn’t help herself why should I waste my time? Growing up, I didn’t understand it, but I did what Dad said.

He used to bring grown women over to the house when I was twelve and he pushed them on me. SobI had a crash course in Fucking 101. The best of the best taught me what I know now.

Dad and I hardly spent time together, because when he wasn’t working he was fucking bitches from here to California. Getting them pregnant
and leaving them. At last count Dad has twenty-three children. And he did nothing for them.

Presently, Dad and I occasionally speak. But I felt nothing for him. When I thought about him I
thought of pussy.

And that’s bad.

Now that I was a man I had a problem with commitment. I was more committed to taking bitches to the telly (Hotel) than making them
happy.

I loved fogging up those mirrors. Once my Grade A beef knocked ‘em out with one shot for the rest of the night I’d write “The freak was here” on the mirror, put on my clothes and drive my ass to my crib.

But the high school days were on my mind right now. The Ex Files. The female softball team. Eight of them. We were hungry and searching for
the next nut before the squirrels came out to play with the roosters every morning.

So full of testosterone I was. So full of emptiness when the bitches drained my nuts dry.

Two females on the cross country track team. Big red X’s. Three from the water polo team. Big red X’s.

Women’s basketball team. Nine of them. Big red X’s. Male basketball team. Eleven red X’s. All one-night stands. Fuck now, forget me later.

Prison: four big red X’s. I only took photos with the ones I did something with. Had to survive in jail. No way was I going to get killed or stabbed.
So I did what I had to do, slinging this dick for food, protection and continued coverage.

I kept it discreet, even had a few corrections’ officers, and got out with no bumps and scrapes...