#Five

Tags

china, flies, fly, horror, nail gun, pornography, spider

苍蝇不叮无缝的蛋

Chinese proverb

I am a spider. I kill flies. Something about my feromones makes them swarm to me. But remember: I’m a dangerous solitary creature. No matter how much you think you’ve got me eating out of the palm of your hand, I will always walk alone.

<Skipped section>

I was pissed. Not just at myself for falling for this trick. But also at her for selling me bull shit. So I made her suffer. I bought a nail gun, and stuck her to the table. I superglued and ducktaped her mouth shut before I put more nails in her body, one every minute, until she stopped moving. Then I left the mess for someone else to find. Hopefully the men who no longer got any money from her. If it were them, it would buy me time to flee the country.

I’d now really become a spider. No emotional attachment ever again. Solitary life is best. I’d show the world how long I could do without feeding. But when I get hungry: brace yourself. I’m now without remorse. I’m dangerous. Run when you spot my tattoos.

Als je het hele hoofdstuk wil lezen, in het Nederlands, bestel het boek Bekentenissen van mijn leven als spin hier.

If you want to read the entire chapter, order the book Confessions of my life as a spider here – it’s shipping world wide.

#Four

Tags

bus, fly, murder, pornography, spider, Sri Lanka, tattoo

ஈக்கள் ஒரு புதிய தொட்டியில் திரண்டு வருவதில்லை.

Tamil proverb

I am a spider, and I am dangerous. Yet, for some reason, flies appear in my life. Usually I only have to make a minor effort squashing them.

Once I even had a fly come to at me, and at first I let her go. I had just come off a twenty hour flight – well, with a six hour lay-over in some Arabian desert where even the flies hide in tents. The only thing I wanted was a bed. But first I had to eat and shower. I had flown a long way towards the equator and was once again in a very warm and humid nation. Being in the middle of the ocean didn’t help of course.

Fresh off the cool plane, ten minutes outside made me hot and sweaty in an unappreciative way. Believe me, in the right circumstances, being hot and sweaty is a state I’d aim for instead of avoid. By the time I landed in Colombo I was old and experienced enough to say that I enjoyed getting hot, sweaty and naked with someone.

But not just yet. The waitress in the hotel-restaurant I’d picked, tried to get my attention straight away. She was cute. Chestnut skin, long black hair reaching all the way down her perfectly arched back to where her buttocks were hiding under her white wide but slightly too short skirt. She served me bending over the table, allowing me a good look onto her small and firm breasts – not kept in place by a bra. At the time I had no idea how culturally inappropriate this was; at the time I was even too tired to act upon the hint. I appreciated the view of her dark nipples rubbing her hotel-supplied T-shirt, sure. But I first went to bed.

The next morning she was wearing a plain, bright blue dress. It closed tightly around her neck, fit neatly across her shoulders and female curves to leave no room for doubt about her beauty. From her hips down, the dress widened to fall loosely around her bare legs, carried by simple black pumps. The simplicity of her attire made her more attractive; I remember thinking that with a dress like this, she needn’t take anything off to straddle naked me.

Als je de rest wil lezen, in het Nederlands, bestel het boek Bekentenissen van mijn leven als spin hier.

If you want to read the rest of this chapter, order the book Confessions of my life as a spider here – it’s shipping world wide.

#Three

Tags

fly, murder, pornography, schoolgirl, spider, tattoo, Turkey

Anlayana sivri sinek saz anlamayana davul zurna az.

Turkisch proverb

I am a spider. I have killed quite a few flies without casting a web. You see, I’m dangerously aggressive, I usually don’t need any intricate representations to get what I want. Therefore: when I talk to you, run, and you may live.

There was this one time, I found myself in Ankara. And yes, after my African stint, I did explore this country quite extensively. I’ve seen Doğubeyazıt, I’d seen İzmir, but nowhere did I encounter the kind of girls I saw in Ankara, and one in particular.

The first time I saw her, she was in a school uniform. White blouse, chequered skirt a few inches above the knee, black leather boots an inch below the knees, raven black wavy hair halfway down her back, bright red lips and runny mascara.

I asked her what was wrong, and she told me her boyfriend had left her after a couple of wild nights. To be sure – the school uniform worried me – I had to ask her age. I was an adult by then, and didn’t want to end up a paedophile in a Turkish dungeon. Eighteen – she was still in school because she had paid more attention to boys than to grades. So I thought I was going to be the rebound boy once again. Her appearance had most certainly given that desire.

We talked for a long time, and even though I tried to buzz like a fly – and she got my message about emotional connection and the need for understanding, I may as well have been screaming my desire through a clarion. She didn’t bite.

She said I was a wise man for my age, kissed me on the cheek and went into her home. I was already going in after her, when she shut the door in my face. I knew then I had to cast a web to catch this fly.

I did. I sweet-talked, presented and flattered her for two days before I first touched her naked body. No, she wasn’t naked; for some reason she insisted on wearing socks.

It didn’t matter. I was only the second man to be with her, so I first kissed her passionately, while I hugged and caressed her ever so gently. I let my hands go through her perfectly groomed shiny hair, I explored her back and gained the first delighted moan when I held her firm buttocks in my hands, my little finger slowly moving towards what matters.

Als je de rest wil lezen, in het Nederlands, bestel het boek Bekentenissen van mijn leven als spin hier.

If you want to read the rest of this chapter, order the book Confessions of my life as a spider here – it’s shipping world wide.

#Two

Tags

ebony, fly, Kenya, murder, pornography, spider, Swahili

Nzi hufuata asali

Swahili proverb

I am a spider, and you are not. You are a fly. I am a solitary creature. If you see me, stay in the crowd. If I talk to you, run, or before you know it, you’re part of the swarm on my shoulder.

Let me tell you about flies.

Having read about the first fly I swatted, you probably understand that not long after I found myself on a plane – off to Africa. The plane had a clear goal, but I didn’t have a particular destination in mind. I had to leave, but didn’t care where to. Next to me, in seat 79E in a KLM-747 (I was on the aisle), was a sweet looking African girl bawling her eyes out.

I offered her a napkin and a conversation. Not because I suddenly cared about someone else, but the sobbing sounds bugged me. Strangling her would have solved that problem too, but getting away with murder on an intercontinental flight – well, I wasn’t experienced enough for that yet. As it turns out, she’d been in my country for two months to meet the on line love of her life. He happened to be married and his wife was into threesomes. She first tried to go along with it, tried to become his favourite, and ended up with the short end of the bargain – sobs on a plane. Next to me.

I gave her a shoulder to cry on. I showed her I understood her pain. By the time we hit the ground of her home country, she fell into my arms like an insatiable love doll.

She showed me the local more or less famous churches, she showed me some colonial buildings, she showed me some ancient and modern tourist traps, but mostly she showed me beds like a fly drawn to honey. Nothing helps you forget an old love like a new fling, so she flung herself at me with a ferocity that surprised me. However, cracks in this horny picture started showing when I started feeling like her pet. She once even said that she believed the only thing necessary to keep a man tied to a woman, was a regular milking; like a cow.

Don’t get me wrong. The sex was amazing. She had a cute face, with a lovely smile. Eyes so dark they were pools to swim in. She kept her hair short, as she hated tending to long frizzy hair. She had fairly large breasts, and – as far as I was experienced – rather wide hips, but that didn’t hamper any orgasms. Not hers, nor mine, and she was into anal. She was my first, doing that with; and boy was that tight! Mind you, this was only the second girl I’d ever been with. It was overwhelming. I was almost starting to think that going at it for hours on end at least six times a week was normal.

No, it wasn’t always hours on end. There were quickies too. I remember a library toilet visit blowjob. I remember her silently orgasming on a sleeper train. I even remember her going commando in a cab, sitting on my lap; you can imagine what happened next.

And then she dropped the L-word; and I knew it was time to swat this fly. It wasn’t easy. I needed to get out clean, and too many people and places had seen us together. So I took her somewhere new. We drove to the north-west for a couple of hours, where I knew there were some interesting nature walks. She always said she’d wanted to go, so I took her there. This area had some steep cliffs, and a plateau on the edge. We walked along the plateau, to the rim. Once alone, close to the edge, she went down and started to unbutton my fly – I guess she thought her cow needed milking. But I am no cow, I am a spider. So instead of letting her blow me dry, I put my knee up, which made her lose her balance.

I don’t even remember her scream. Or the look of surprise on her face. I never saw her body hit the rocks below. I turned around, buttoned up my fly and walked down the path we’d come, free as a raging bull. It wasn’t long before I found a tattoo artist to add a fly to my shoulder way from the spider, and further to the north-west, I caught a plane north; no, not back to my home country, but I had to get out quickly, so I took the first flight out of there.

As you know, I’m a spider. I’m a solitary creature. And the flies on my shoulder are a reminder of the ones I swatted. There’s a whole bunch of them now. Fear me. You may be next.

Dit is een hoofdstuk uit het boek Bekentenissen van mijn leven als spin. Dit zeldzame werk is hier te bestellen.

This is a chapter from the book Confessions of my life as a spider. This rare book is for sale here, and shipping world wide.