Life, Sex and Snuff-Porn

He reached up into the closet and pulled down a book, opened it and pulled out a large, crumpled photograph that he had to carefully unfold before we could all see it fully, and...

She was magnificent. A young, slender brunette, supine, with her legs spread wide open to the world. What grabbed my attention the most was her hair, thick, lustrous and falling back from her head in easy, flowing waves onto what appeared to be a bed of leaves beneath her. It didn't take long for me to notice, though, that her eyes looked...weird. Stunningly blue...breathtaking...but something was clearly missing, vacant. Her legs were impossibly long, muscular, and my gaze travelled up them to the thick curls of hair around her vagina. Odd and slightly shocking, but I could not look away. I stared at the picture for an immeasurable amount of time, the feelings washing through me so completely overwhelming and confusing that it was some time before it dawned on me that what I had initially thought was a swath of her hair falling perfectly, alluringly, across her throat wasn't hair at all, it was some kind of jagged wound. And this angelically beautiful woman was dead.

Tender, almost mystical longing and ecstatic lust intermingled suddenly with shock, revulsion and self-loathing. Pretty heavy stuff for a kid just a few years removed from kindergarten. I can't pretend that I came away from this early experience with much in the way of knowledge about sex, what it felt like, or even the proper way one went about actually doing it. But I knew for certain that there was something profoundly ambivalent about it, that no matter how incredible it felt to have that desire inside and have it manifest physically as a wonderfully ticklish sensation in my penis, the whole thing was mysteriously and indelibly linked to violence and death and empty eyes that stare right through you, never seeing who you really are.