From then on it was one girl after another. It took less and less time and planning for me to get them. And while it had taken me nearly half a year to grab onto Miss Dupree, I got it to the point where I could often get a girl to fuck me ten minutes after I'd met her.

And in the five year period from the spring of 1974 to the spring of 1979 I'd been with over a hundred girls. Blondes, brunettes, redheads; white girls, black girls, oriental girls; girls with large breasts, girls with small breasts, even one freak of a brunette, half Cherokee-half Irish, with two high cheekbones, two long legs, two big brown eyes, and three nipples the extra one being on the bottom of her left breast. Some of these girls I knew by name—Kathy, Denise, Emma, Annalisa. Annalisa was a wild one, had Tourette Syndrome, used to scream "motherfucker" or "suck my dick" as we walked hand in hand down Broad Street. Others I had no names for and so made up my own names, names pertaining to where or when or how I'd fucked them. Names such as "The 2pm Showing Of For The Love Of Benji" or "The Dumpster Behind Oglethorpe Hall In The Pouring Rain With One Tennis Shoe On" or "Up The Ass On The Midnight Bus To Gainesville." Some girls were young, had never even seen a man and didn't know what to do, some of them were grandmothers who had no idea I'd fucked not just their daughters, but their granddaughters as well. Some girls were poor, some girls were rich; some were tall and thin, while others were short and fat. I had one who was five foot eleven and weighed one hundred pounds, another who was five foot one and weighed two hundred pounds. One girl was a doctor's daughter, very clean, wore bright red and yellow clothes and only liked it up the ass while pulling up her favorite lemon pleated skirt. One of them was a garbageman's daughter, liked it nice and easy, nice and slow, made me say "I love you Judy" when her name was really Maureen. One of them was a blind girl, she knew how to touch, liked the sting of pepper on her lips, the viscous feel of cum on her fingers. One of them was a deaf girl—"Wuck me wuck me you tud!" she'd scream, "Hood Hod Ahm honna hum!" By the time I was seventeen I'd had every kind of girl there was to be had—every kind except one.

So I made some phone calls. I looked for people named Bodine. I knew that was the surname Lily and Leonard had taken, and more importantly I knew Lily and Leonard while they hardly knew me. After a week of research I knew exactly where they were and what to do.

So I moved down to Florida. And when the time was right I knocked on their door. And gave them a story. I told them I'd quit college after two years when in fact I'd just graduated. I let them know I was smart, but I didn't let them know how smart. Because in truth I had gone directly from my freshman year in high school on to college. It was a waste, my teachers agreed, to keep me in high school when I was more than ready for college, which took me three years to complete. I was a little slow getting though, yes, but I didn't want to take on too much work at once—after all, I had a multitude of girls to deal with. At the end of my second year I was bored, I wanted to be done with school. But it was during my third and final year of college when I met that deaf girl—Weesa was her name. With the grunts and groans she made, fucking her was like fucking a wounded lion, and fucking her I began to wonder how Lily would compare. I wondered what sounds Lily would make if she didn't have to keep quiet. I wondered about Lily's long legs, if she'd make me chase her or just roll over and spread them, make me rub her belly, good girl good girl, before fucking her like a farmboy fucking his first sheep.

So I moved down to Florida. Palm trees, beach resorts, dog races. I got a job at the track. After two weeks I knocked on their door. I told them that I'd just gotten into town, that I'd had a hard time on the road. I told them I'd been looking for them all over the country. In Rock Springs, Wyoming—"A dark dirty town," I said, "full of drugs, prostitution and murder." In Galveston, Texas—"a sweet and peaceful city by the sea where the slow and pleasant streets are lined with oleander." I didn't let Lily and Leonard know how easy it was to find them—that would have made them suspicious.

So they took me in. I'd done quite an acting job on them. Though my surprise at their having had a baby wasn't acting at all, because despite all my investigative work the fact of their son's birth slipped right by me. And while I could understand their having a baby simply as an experiment—biological and sociological—for them to have a baby simply as an extension of their marital love was, as far as I was concerned, an extreme act of self indulgence. I was shocked and nearly did throw my plans out the window by phoning our parents. But looking at Lily, who at twenty-three, and after having given birth to a child was even hotter than I remembered her being at sixteen, I came to my senses. More than anything I wanted her ass, and as she told me how she and Leonard were in love I imagined her naked, her legs spread apart, waiting for me to give her the big one, make her beg, fetch, roll over and howl like a dog. I knew that day would come, but I had to play it cool, play it safe, and above all play ignorant.

So I stayed quiet, pretending I was still contemplating whether or not to tell our parents, when I was now merely considering the revisions I'd have to make in my plans. It would be like Miss Dupree all over again—it would be difficult, very difficult, which was all the more reason to do it. Most of all it would take time and patience. But sooner or later my hot bitch of a sister was going to be my own exclusive piece of ass. She'd be my blind girl, my deaf girl, my black, white, poor or rich girl all rolled into one tight little package. And I would be the apple of her eye.