It's been months. Well it's been four months to be exact. Four months since I gave in and looked, that's not to say it's been that long since I thought about it. About the characters I so briefly became acquainted with. About the nearly larger than life ideas and themes that had confronted me in stark black letters against the harsh white of the computer screen. I'd even been thinking about the people behind it all, about the people giving life to those stories. I had actually gotten lost in my imagination for awhile about those people, mostly women I assumed, sitting behind their screens pouring their ideas and depictions of me into the electronic world. That was when I knew I had to walk away.

After stumbling onto that site I kept going back there in the early hours of every morning for nearly two weeks. I even signed up, creating an account and everything, and I managed to finish the stories I had started that first night before beginning a search for more stories to read. Then it happened. Very late one night I inexplicably found myself writing a private message to one of the author's I'd first read. The message had been long, verbose even, filled with questions about the story and how the author developed the plot and their writing process and then the message took a turn and became more, well, personal. Much more personal than I had intended, more personal than I had even noticed while writing it. Sitting back in my chair that night, rereading my words before hitting send, I noticed what was really happening and what I was really doing with that message. I tried to imagine for a moment what the person on the other end might feel upon reading my words. Would she find it friendly or creepy? Would she even bother to respond? How would those words make her feel? Would she suspect it was me? Before I knew what was happening my mind and my hand began to wander as I imagined her, her eyes caressing my carefully crafted words. As I read farther into my words I was slapped in the face with the innuendo and suggestions that had crept unknowingly from my fingertips and into that message. With a heavy sigh I highlighted the entire text and deleted it before shutting down my computer. I haven't been back to the site since. Honestly I was terrified of the way those stories made me feel and how I reacted without even the slightest bit of remorse for my actions. I hadn't even thought about watching porn in years and yet there I was reading through those stories, Wattpad had become my guilty pleasure, my porn. After I walked away that night I prayed. I asked for Jehovah's forgiveness and the strength to turn away from everything I knew was waiting for me with only a few clicks. I tried to stop thinking about the sequels I saw some of the stories had. I tried my best to stop wondering whatever became of those characters I had somehow become so invested in. What was almost more disturbing was when I started to wonder if I ever found true happiness in those storylines. The stories had cast a neon light on one of my greatest pains and that was something I simply could not face.

When I finally hit the road again it was so much easier. Being on the road is usually the best distraction for me. I've always chosen to tour when life was hard, it gave me distance from what ever the issue was usually. On stage I could just get lost in the moment. The feeling of the large VOX guitar slung over my left shoulder, fingers searching for the right sound to ring from the strings on my command, the band filling the empty space around my melodies, and the unbridled energy from the crowd flowing through my body. On stage I was in another place and even off stage on tour I was kept so busy I didn't even have a chance to think about those stories and that devilish site. The whole experience was always so intoxicating I completely lost all my day to day worries and concerns in the fast pace of life on the road. But as much as I sometimes wished tours could last forever, the peaceful oblivion of the ever changing day to day, they never did and here I am again, alone in the predawn hours of the morning. Christmas is just a few days away and everyone has gone their separate ways to be with friends and family, Sure I'd received my fair share of invites from different people to join them, but I had given up those celebrations years ago, and as much as people liked to tell me it wouldn't be weird if I came along, it would. They were all just being nice, being cordial with their boss. At least that's how it felt. That's how it always felt anymore. So here I am again.

With a heavy sigh I rested my slight frame back against the cool black material of my desk chair. I'd tried getting some sleep earlier, but the silence filling Paisley Park was deafening. So I gave up and tried to work on some music, but it all came out a jumbled mess, my mind in too much of a disarray to focus on anything. So I retired to my office, hoping to get through some emails. My eyes met the cold glow of the computer screen as I opened my laptop, an unexplained chill running over my skin even though the plush black sweeter enveloping my arms and torso kept me plenty warm. The smallest twinge of excitement rolled through me at the thought of what could be hiding on that site, what else could be there now that wasn't all those months ago. Bringing my legs covered in a black stretch material up into the chair and crossing them Indian style I silently asked for forgiveness and let my fingers type in the letters they'd been dying to type again. Chewing nervously on the corner of my bottom lip I typed in my name and was again greeted with a vast offering of book covers, some I'd seen last time, some being completely new to me. Silently I told myself this was research, yeah, research to see how the public saw me, how they felt about me and somehow that lie seemed to settle all my anxiety, at least for now. Just like last time I was at a loss on how to pick what I was going to read, it was really luck of the draw I learned last time. Finally something just a little different caught my eye.

"Well that looks a little more subdued than the rest." I noted out loud as I examined the muted earth tones of the cover with a clear picture of me in profile adoring one side of the cover, a familiar picture from the Musicology insert. Clicking on the picture the words came into clear view and my eyes began to scan over them.

"Now why's the first word in this story gotta be a curse word?" I asked myself before continuing my way down the page, almost waiting for myself to show up in the first chapter. A younger version of myself I assumed given the set up with the teenagers sneaking into one of my favorite places. I could see it now, it would be young me, maybe as old as my early twenties trying to pick up on this cute young thing. Wouldn't be too far from the truth of things really I thought to myself as a faceless character came on the scene, chatting up what I could only imagine to be the female lead in this tale. My imagination got away from me as I pictured how the rest of the story likely plays out, young me as the heartbreaker that damages this poor girl in some emotional way without meaning to. The slightest frown tugged at the corners of my lips as I replayed certain events from my past, taking note of how that very thing had happened on numerous occasions, and I had never once intended to leave any of them scared in any way. That would be an awfully predictable and slightly distasteful way for this story to play out, I thought, deciding I would only read this one chapter since I'd already figured this one out. Hazel colored eyes continued to roam over the screen as I tilted my head back taking a small sip of my chamomile tea which caught in my throat as a picture of me appeared between paragraphs.

"Well that isn't me in my twenties." I mumbled, coughing slightly as I leaded forward, as if being closer to the picture would somehow make it different. Well this doesn't fit with how I thought this was going to go at all, my fingers nervously slipping through my hair as I scrolled up to check the age of the girl in the story again.

"Her fucking teacher?!" My eyes nearly popping out of my head at the revelation in the second chapter. Leaning back hard, causing the sturdy chair to rock slightly, I pinched the bridge of my nose as my head shook. These women are trying to have me breaking all sorts of laws, both legal and moral ones, I thought as I closed my eyes, shielding myself from the version of me in those words. Without really thinking about it I found myself sitting back up, focused on the screen and fully absorbed in the story line that kept surprising me. I wasn't painted as a sex crazed musician and the depth my character was actually given told me this author understood more about me than I ever thought. But the farther I sank into the story, as the chapters started to add up I started to see pieces of myself from the past, pieces of how I had treated past lovers that were so much younger. My heart started to jump as I reached the end of chapter 9, that last scene playing out nearly word for word how things had happened so many years ago with that one, with her. I'd never intended to hurt her, I only wanted to be part of her life and her a part of mine and then there was the night this happened. My memories trailed off like the unspoken words between her and I as I looked away from the screen. Now I was afraid I would see the same fate played out in the story and I didn't even want to see a fictional version of me hurt Jamie. Saving the story to my library and pondering if I would ever have the nerve to return to it I started a quick search for something else, maybe something a little less close to home.

"Ok, lets see, hmmm. Well I haven't been an employee in years." I mused with a tentative grin as I briefly buried my fingers in my slightly disheveled fro. I clicked on the black and white image before reaching into the top drawer of the desk and pulling out the familiar pair of black framed reading glasses, placing them gingerly on my face, bringing the words on the screen into sharper relief.

"Made her scream for mercy just by the skill of his fingers." I read the line out loud the fourth time my eyes rolled over it, a cocky smile pulling back my lips as a knowing laugh echoed from my body. These authors do have some imagination. I have had a compliment or two I thought, briefly reminiscing about that one time in the back of the theater, her moans actually got us kicked out. Those early days with her had been fun, had made me feel so young, so alive again. Eyes glancing around the room, taking note of the complete lack of a woman's touch, as I remembered how things had ended; how she made me feel so old by the time we were done. Shaking myself free of the less than pleasant memory I returned my attention to the screen and found myself chuckling slightly as my character gave himself a pep talk about confronting Angela. The dynamic between the wo character reminded me of a reversed version of some of the things Sheila and I had gone through all those years ago during that off and on relationship we had. The times she would barge into the studio and demand attention just for the sake of showing the people around me she had some control over what was going on between us. At least there was one relationship that I still had fond memories of and one woman I hadn't completely ruined as a friend. Thoughts of her and our time together both as friends and lovers filled my mind as I read through the tale of the employee and his employer who was obviously in dire need of him. By the end of the third chapter Angela was spread out on the dining room table and I was fighting an internal battle to keep my need for release under control and my hands from traveling south.

"No." my voice assertive as I exited the story, finally releasing a shaky breath I didn't even know I'd been holding let alone for how long. I wasn't going to let any of these stories get the better of me this time. I was stronger than my base animal needs, needs which were still clearly visible. A few more deep breaths and I focused solely on the screen, forcibly ignoring the achingly hard piece of me screaming for attention. Eye scanned my search results and the very next picture on the page quickly caught my attention, and gave me hope for a distraction.

"Well now just what is this?" the smile in my voice would have been evident to anyone, had there been anyone around to hear me as I looked over a small picture of me and my oldest friend playing on stage. For a brief moment I vividly remembered those early days practicing in his mother's basement and finally being out there performing, how we lived for that time on the stage. I loved how this one started, I was young and shy with my big fro, but somehow still managed to have my tongue in the neighbor girls mouth by the end of the third chapter. Yeah, that was a fairly accurate description of me at that age, a smile consuming my face, I was shy but cocky at the same time. A little laugh rolled through my chest at the thought of how I acted in my youth. I could see how that came off a little odd I thought with another chuckle. I found myself completely lost in the story of Martha and me and Andre's weird reactions to everything. I stopped a few chapters in reflecting on my younger years and how everyone now likes to think I was some heartbreaker when I was in high school. Sinking back into the chair, I drew a deep breath as my eyes drifted closed for the briefest of moments as my now older so much more mature self sent up a silent request for forgiveness for my past.

"Heartbreaker." scoffing at the sound of the word as it rolled off my tongue and landed flatly in the hollow feeling room around me. Placing my hands firmly on the sturdy arms of the chair I lifted my body, moving back more comfortably in the chair and sitting up straight again, my legs hanging over the edge with my bare feet pushing into the soft carpet as my eyes went back to the action on the screen. I was captivated by the story, by how I was being depicted and honestly by how much this girl seemed willing to put up with. As I reached chapter 8 I was so engrossed in the story I couldn't tear my eyes away from it and I felt my breath catch slightly as Martha wrapped her fingers around me for the first time. I tried to look away from the words, part of me screamed that looking away was the right thing to do, the only thing to do, but as she asked my character to 'show her' a knot formed in my gut and I drew a deep breath fighting the heat in my pants that was still hard as ever. There was no going back, I knew there was no way my eyes were going to leave the glowing screen. I lost myself completely in the story, reading through chapter after chapter, each scene between Martha and Price more interesting than the last as they progressed through their young relationship. I fought the urge to touch myself at each erotic exchange as I felt myself involuntarily twitch in hopes of attention. I hadn't touched myself in that way since the last time I sat in this chair and came to this site and I wasn't going to break my vow of celibacy, not this time. The story is about me, so there is no harm in reading it, no one is being exploited or harmed I thought to myself as I tried to rationalize why it was alright for me to continue reading. As the story moved forward it became more and more clear I was a complete asshole. I even found myself angry at my own actions and pondering in earnest if this was how people really saw me then or if perhaps people saw me this way now.

"I never forgot a girls brithday." defending my character against the judgmental silence creeping all around me. I found myself silently defending myself over and over in the coming chapters, shaking my head as my character seemed to become more and more of an asshole and still I couldnt look away. Long after the baby was born and she finally confronted me about my infedility I heard myself uttering words to the fictional character that I had heard myself utter to women in real life too many times to count.

"You deserve someone so much better honey." and it was the truth. My mind raced through the long list of woman I had said those very words to and how I regretted every way I'd eve hurt them and just like those women in my real life, even this fictional character deserved better, but I in no way expected what came next. Just as my character in the story, I found myself snearing at the idea of Andre coming anywhere near what I preceived as mine. Even in fiction I wanted what was mine to stay that way, but as Martha's body was slammed against the door of her house I felt myself become uncomfortably hard in an instant. The image of her body crushed agaisnt that door, his hands seeking the panties that were nowhere to be found, it was all too much for me and I lost my self imposed battle. Reaching past the waist of my pants I wrapped my determined fingers around my hard cock. I stroked with the urgency of a man in dire need of sexual release, my precum serving as lube, as he took her hard and fast against the door. My office echoed with the sound of my increasingly labored breath and small groans of self pleasure. Sinking down in the chair slightly, my legs widening, as he carried her to the couch, my pace increased hoping to find my edge as the characters on the screen did. As he asked her to come on him again I felt the knot in my gut unravel, coiled tension releasing from my toes, up my legs, through my thighs, as my hot seed covered my still moving hand. Slamming my eyes closed with a growl my hand continued to work over my hard skin for a few more minutes until I came again.

"Fuck!" My loud nearly pained sounding groan echoed around me as the hard, shattering release shook my limbs and sent a jolt of pleasure like I'd never felt before surging through my body. Twitching in my hand, my pumping slowed, as my grip started to release slightly. Looking down I noticed I'd negelcted to pull my pants down and they were now soaked with cum. Cum from jacking off to the image of my best friend fucking the mother of my child. My brow furrowed as I sat with that thought in my mind, still trying to catch my breath with my slowly softening dick still in my hand.

"This is fucked up..." words cut short by the sound of the phone on my desk. Without giving it any thought I reached for the device the instant the noise broke the silence.

"Hello."

"Hey brotha, what's going on? you run to the phone or something?" my hand flew out of my pants, quickly wiping it clean against the fabric covering my thigh. My were already such a mess there was no saving them I thought as I felt my cooling cum trailing around my sac and lower.

"Hey, uh, no. What's up?" Failing to sound anything close to normal I tried to the move the awkward conversation forward as quick as possible. "And why are you calling me this early anyways?"

"Man you know you're hard to reach, but I can always count on you being up in the middle of the damn night." He laughed slightly.

"Uh hu. Whatever." distractedly I looked around for something to start cleaning myself off with, after dicovering my box of tissues was empty.

"Anyways, I know you never say yes, but I'll be at Mama's for Christmas and we would all love for you to come over. We haven't seen you in a while. I know you don't. . ."

"I'll be there." Interrupting him before I had time to change my mind.

"What? Really? You're not kidding?" The dibelief in his voice was clear.

"Shut the fuck up Andre, I'll be there. Don't tell your mama either, let it be a surprise." I wanted him off the damn phone now, I wanted to forget what had happened just before he called.

"And you're droppin fucks in this conversation? Who are you? What have you done with my friend?" Andre's voice raised slightly as he laughed questioningly at me.

"Fuck off man, I need to get out of this house it's fucking with my head." leaning forward I took note of the story and it's author "Who Do U Belong 2?" I mumbled out loud before harshly closing the laptop.

"What'd you say man?" Shaking me head and looking down at the large wet, milky looking patches on my black pants.

"Nothing. I need to go. See you on Christmas." With that I ended the call. Standing up I quickly pulled the destroyed pants off and tossed them in the garbage next to my desk before pulling off my sweater and tossing it into the chair. Walking through Paisley Park the cool air hitting my bare skin as I headed for the shower my mind started running wild. What the hell was I going to do about this? I couldn't even go to that site again. That was it I decided. I needed to contact my people and have all those stories pulled down for my own good.

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Special thanks to:
HumanNature82
nubian43
K_N_M222