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Daddy said…

~ Formerly Confessions of my life as a spider

Daddy said…

Tag Archives: murder

#Fourteen – epilogue

04 Mon May 2020

Posted by bentrein in Confessions

≈ 8 Comments

Tags

butterflies, epilogue, flies, Lion, murder, Philippines, pornography, spider, Tigress

Kung magkakaisa lahat ng sapot ng gagamba tiyak leon ay mapapatumba.

Filipino proverb (Tagalog)

<Skipped the beginning>

As the climax dissipated and she relaxed, my dick was still hard. I gently climbed on top of her, and slowly penetrated her warm and wet cavity. Her eyes widened as I quickly realised she was actually really tight. This pussy had not been penetrated often, if at all. She just laid there, moaning in the right way, but leaving all the movement to me. She was so small, she disappeared under me but for her spindly limbs. To the ceiling I must have looked like a large spider – four arms, four legs and one body. How apt.

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.

I am here, I am everywhere

Fiddler’s Green

#Twelve

13 Mon Apr 2020

Posted by bentrein in Confessions

≈ 4 Comments

Tags

fly, Germany, murder, pornography, redback, spider, tattoo, Uckersee

Spinnerin am Morgen
bringt Kummer und Sorgen.
Spinnerin am Abend
bringt Glück und Gaben.

German poem

<Skipped the beginning>

By morning, reality caught up with me, and this spinster turned into a sour partner. She picked up her phone, scrolled through her Instagram account. When she showed me the screen, I knew I had fucked up. I was looking at myself, back in Bosnia. And it was the last picture her friend had posted.

I got up from the bed, went into the bathroom to take a leak, and I silently underwent the questions she fired at me. I pulled the hair dryer from the wall and went back into the bedroom. That is when she asked me if I was the perp from the news from Szczecin.

As I pulled the electric wire tight around her neck, I told her the truth. I told her that she would be turned into a fly tattoo on my arm. Because I am a spider, and I kill flies. Especially the ones that are a nuisance; those buzzing around my head with annoying questions.

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.

#Eleven

06 Mon Apr 2020

Posted by bentrein in Confessions

≈ 4 Comments

Tags

flies, fly, foursome, knife, MMFF, murder, orgasms, Poland, pornography, Sczcecin, spider, TVP3, twins

Dwa pająki się spotkali, puzzle sobie ukladali
jeden mówi do drugiego, pospisz się kolego.

Polish poem

I am a spider. I kill flies. I hide, like every clever spider, in plain sight. Fully dressed, I look like any ordinary human being; you won’t notice the tattoos. I’ve put myself – a red-back spider – on one shoulder, and all the swatted flies on the other side.

Do yourself a favour: if I talk to you, and you’re starting to think I’m nice, run. Or I will bring you to heights you’ve yet to see, only to tear you apart a little while later.

A month after poisoning the couple in Bosnia, I hadn’t found a place to settle down just yet. I was still living in hotels – at this time a rather nice one in Sczcecin – when I was invited to the pool by a man. Knowing me, I’m sure you are wondering what the relevance is, here. But it is relevant, trust me; I’ve never been this honest. Once we were in the pool, I realised I was not alone: on his shoulder there was a tattoo of a rather large spider climbing up towards his neck. It wasn’t a red-back, but it looked fierce enough. Even though there were no flies on the other, I was sure I had met a partner in crime. The only difference being, that he was just getting started.

He was nice, we had a similar character, only confirming my suspicion. And then he took the initiative. There were twins sitting by the pool. Dark-blonde, wavey hair, fit, trained bodies, flat stomachs, small and firm breasts covered by cute bikinis. Their smiles were to die for, their voices soft and timid and their emerald eyes shone. At first glance, the only difference between them were their belly buttons: one had a pink button pierced into it, the other a blue one.

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.

#Ten

30 Mon Mar 2020

Posted by bentrein in Confessions

≈ 3 Comments

Tags

Bosnia, chrysomya megacephala, fly, murder, poisoning, pornography, red-back, spider

Ne pravi pauk mrežu za jednu muhu.

Bosnian Proverb

I am a spider. I am a dangerous spider, even though my power is now weakening. Sitting here, perched high above the land I know so well. My mind’s eye replaces the view I see before me, with images from the winter I was at my most dangerous. It was the time I had eight flies and a mosquito on one arm, and the single solitary red-back spider tattooed on my other. I had just feasted in Italy and was hiding out in Šuica… When I get the chance, I hunt. I did back then, perhaps I will again soon. Don’t give me that chance. Run when we meet.

In Blidinje nature park I met her. She arrived in a Porsche 356 – I will never know why she drove that there, other than just because she could. Lush lips, voluptuous bosom, beautiful bubble butt and dark blonde hair made her worth noticing even more than the car. Her eyes, though, dull with boredom, were glued to her phone. So I struck up a conversation.

<Skipped a bit>

After she swallowed my 10cc, I buttoned up and she drove me to her estate – she apparently was satisfied enough, for I didn’t see her use her phone again. There we spent the week fornicating. One morning, as I was making her breakfast, a man walked in and I found out she’d lied to me. The man, who thought I was the new chef, asked me for a specific breakfast with sweet black Americano and went up to her bedroom. I’d just met her husband; the divorce was a lie. And while I now had a good reason to swat this fly, it presented me with quite a dilemma.

Walk away? Never! I am a fucking spider. And I’m good at fucking, too! I am dangerous; I kill. But then, she’d lied to me to get laid; I ‘d never been this irked before. This fly had to die. Today. But what to do about her mate? He had done me little harm, but if I killed her, he surely would hunt me down.

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.

#Nine

23 Mon Mar 2020

Posted by bentrein in Confessions

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

drown, fly, horror, Italy, murder, pornography, pregnancy, pregnant, spider

Ragno porta guadagno.

Italian proverb

I am a spider. A very dangerous one at that. If you don’t run, I kill, and then I run. And usually, after I run, I lay low for a while; I digest, so to speak. By the time we meet, though, assume I’m hungry.

The intermissions have usually been a time of reflection too. Don’t get me wrong, it was never a time of remorse. Regret is something I refuse to feel – I do what seems a good idea at the time. Reflect I do – how can I get out cleaner the next time? And one thing I figured out was, that I needed more money. For you needn’t fear a spider that brings money, right?

So I buried my spider and flies under a white collar and went into crime. There are two ways to get rich: organise gambling or go into banking. Either way, you need to be morally corrupt to make some real dough. As a spider, a moral conscience was not part of my baggage. What followed was the hatching of a plan, I put my savings together and executed it in the land of the free. I kept to myself, ignored all flies I encountered and was successful. Within five years I was offered three million dollars for one company.

An associate of mine, mr. Andretta, had told me a lot of nice things about his father’s home country, so with my pockets full of cash I returned to the continent I was born in. On the plane over the ocean, I was tempted to go back home, but time taught me I wasn’t ready for that yet. This spider brought his money to Italy, first.

Having had half a decade of work and no play, I’d been a dull boy; but I was done working and ready for a new fly. I was famished. It wasn’t a week later, that I bedded a beautiful yet not brand new Italian woman.

She’d obviously been around, and knew what she expected from her man. She was quick and to the point in telling me where and how to touch her; and what not to do. The first time I felt a little like a puppet on strings, but I quickly realised that this was her thing. She came so loud I was worried about the neighbours, a quarter mile away. Her orgasm came from deep within and the trembling continued for quite some time.

Once her first orgasm had abated, she started working my body. She deep-throated me thoroughly; I got so hard it hurt. Then she rode me showing impressive strength and stamina. It had been so long for me that I came like a pig; I worried I’d filled her up like a balloon!

Once we were done, panting, smiling and enjoying the intensity of the last orgasm, I reached down to take off the condom, put a knot in it and… I realised I’d forgotten to put one on. Making money had made me lose my edge. I’d really enjoyed the sex, and was looking forward to more of this, in a way. But a worry entered the back of my head.

When she confirmed she wasn’t on any contraceptive either, knowing the amount of jizz I’d left in her, I knew it was most likely I’d have to swat this fly soon.

When her hormone balance changed, the next week, and she started throwing up, I took my chance. While she was praying through the shitty telephone, I pushed her head into the bowl and flushed. She had strong legs and tried to use them, but I managed to stay out of reach. I slammed the seat down to the back of her neck so hard it cracked. I flushed again, and then she went still, but I still saw her pulse going in her neck. So I kept pushing down, and flushed as often as I could, for about ten minutes. That’s when I was sure her pulse had stopped.

The second time you carry a cold corpse through the woods, is less memorable than the first. All I remember now, is that, at the time, I thought of the first time, and realised there were few similarities. The only similarity I could think of, was that the next morning, I got myself a fly tattoo.

For I am a spider, and I kill flies. Not every day, not even every year. But I am a cold blooded killer, and while I commit this to paper in the chill of a spring evening, you should consider yourself lucky that we haven’t met. Yet.

#Seven

09 Mon Mar 2020

Posted by bentrein in Confessions

≈ 5 Comments

Tags

Australia, crash, fly, Great Ocean Road, murder, pornography, red-back, road trip, spider

Itsy Bitsy Spider climbed up the water spout.
Down came the rain, and washed the spider out.

Origin unknown

<Skipped the beginning>

I took a shine to her, and she did to me when I asked her to join me for dinner at a local NoMSG Asian restaurant. Fortunately for her they served a decent chicken tikka masala; fortunately for me they also had a very acceptable tom yum kung. We ate, we drank and we talked. We talked about our journies and what they had taught us. We hit it off well, for some of the lessons learnt were recognisable, and it had been quite a while for either of us since we’d been with anyone. So when the restaurant cloesed, we found ourselves kissing in her campervan where, only a little while later, she went itsy bitsy spider, slid down my semen spout.

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.

#Six

02 Mon Mar 2020

Posted by bentrein in Confessions

≈ 6 Comments

Tags

fly, katoey, ladyboy, language school, mosquito, murder, pornography, prostitution, spider, thailand

ยุงร้ายกว่าเสือ”

Thai proverb

I am a spider. Beware: I am a dangerous spider. Beware, for real, though, I don’t just kill flies. The red-back on my shoulder has enough poison to hurt a human too. So when I strike up a conversation: kill it; run, hide. Don’ t let me find you again. The flies on my other shoulder are testimony to the ones who failed to run.

No, apparently I don’t just kill flies. I kill mosquitoes too. While I am always a little disappointed to see a fly go, I’m quite pleased with myself that I managed to kill a mosquito. Man, they are a pest; a mosquito is more dangerous than a tiger. Trust me; this one was a handful.

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.

#Four

17 Mon Feb 2020

Posted by bentrein in Confessions

≈ 4 Comments

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

10 Mon Feb 2020

Posted by bentrein in Confessions

≈ 10 Comments

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

03 Mon Feb 2020

Posted by bentrein in Geen categorie

≈ 3 Comments

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.

#One

27 Mon Jan 2020

Posted by bentrein in Confessions

≈ 19 Comments

Tags

fly, knife, murder, pornography, red-back, sliced throat, spider, the Netherlands

“Zeg wat heb je mooie ogen”
Zei de spin tegen de vlieg.
“Ik heb nog nooit een vrouw bedrogen
Denk ook nu niet dat ik lieg.”

Johnny & Jones

I am a spider. My real name starts with the same letter as the shoulder I have this red-back tattoo on. I am a solitary creature and I am dangerous. If you’re a girl, and I talk to you: run.

Why? Because I don’t care. I’m real good at pretending that I do, though.

‘Say, what pretty eyes you have, said the spider to the fly; I’ve never cheated on a woman; I’m quite confident, I’m not lying now.’ There’s some truth in that. At least there was when I said the cheating bit to the first women I ever dated.

We were young and reckless. Screw the world, fuck responsibility. She was fourteen, I was a few years older, yet greener than her.

It started in the spring; the time of year when hormones start racing. She was pretty and came on to me. I, the solitary creature I already was, had no idea what to do, but reciprocated by instinct.

It wasn’t long before we kissed. We started spending time together and even though her mind had a few short circuits, I told myself I was enjoying the attention. She would come over announced and unannounced. She would drop off little love notes in my mailbox (this was the time before the internet; I’m an old man now). She even bought me chocolate, once. Little did I know that that was a hint; I should’ve bought her chocolates. I told you, I was green as grass at the time.

But things didn’t go wrong there. I did take her out, and paid for a movie, a concert, I even pretended to be sophisticated and took her to the theatre. Ballet, it was; she enjoyed it. I got lucky – it was amazing. At least, that’s what I thought for the full three minutes. She had by then turned fifteen and turned out not to be a virgin, so she was less impressed. But she was willing to teach me.

That was strange for me. While some boys get ideas from porn (pornhub wasn’t around at the time, but you get the idea), and others figure it out as they go along (or don’t), and some learn from talking to peers or older partners, I was told how to please a woman by a fifteen year old girl. She taught me how to use my fingers, how to use my tongue, and even practised with me till I lasted long enough for her to orgasm while I was in her – only then, she said, was it my turn to cum.

Don’t call the police on me just yet. I’m not a paedophile; I wasn’t an adult at the time, and fifteen year olds usually don’t appeal to me. No, I told you, I am a spider. At present, I kill flies, not children.

So there I was, having brought her to the summit a few times, thinking I knew what ever woman wants in bed. And I wanted my life back. I’d seen everything of her shell and there was little more to her than the pretty shell. I tried to break up with her.

She didn’t take it well. I’d taken her to a quiet place in the back of a wood just outside the place I lived. I told her I was done… and then she pulled out a knife, and tried to stab me. I asked her who knew she was here with me. “Nobody,” she said honestly. So I grabbed her hand, took the knife and slit her throat.

I told you I was inexperienced at the time. Her blood was all over me, and she gurgled for what seemed like an eternity before the blood stopped flowing.

In this wood there is a tiny knoll. You can still see it today, if you know where to look. It’s in the wood, but away from the paths. Most people who get in this wood, don’t notice it at all. I knew of its existence, as I’d grown up in this area, and had ventured off the beaten tracks more than a few times. In the north side of this knoll I dug a hole. It took some time as I hadn’t planned for this, believe me! Had I planned, I would’ve taken a spade with me.

Once the hole was big and deep, I put her and my bloody clothes in, and closed it up. It was a strange and liberating experience, carrying a cold corpse through the woods for the first time. It’s almost like losing your virginity; you’ll never forget it.

By the time I was done, it was dark. I sneaked home, showered, burnt the rest of my clothes, and went to bed. The next morning, I got my second tattoo. It’s a tattoo of a fly; it ‘s on the shoulder the spider will never reach, because I’ll never touch her again.

So now you know: when you meet me, and see the red-back on one shoulder and a whole lot of flies on the other: run. The flies I caught, didn’t.

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.

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