Author's Note

Some people will tell you that I am evil.
(It is not true)

Some people will say that I am sick.
I am not sick

Some people will pray for me, will call down their gods and and demons
and priests and popes to try and contain me.

I say fuck them.

Fuck them hard and nasty and dirty. Fuck them the way Jaz would write
it, the way John would do it.

Some people think I am Jaz, or John. That I am writing about my life.

They are my brothers.

I know them, I like them, sometimes I hate them. Occasionally I fear
them. Jaz has his life. He responds to E-mails and writes nasty stories.
John has his life, he acts out my fevered imaginings. I unleash them
upon the world, but never doubt that I, I, I am in control They are
strong, but I, I, I am stronger still. I suppress them day after day,
after oh so long day. Jaz smart ass with a nasty wit threatens to peek
through and destroy me, but he rarely succeeds. John would love to fuck
my girlfriend, to hurt her good to lick her blood, her essential being.
He rails and cries and begs me to release him. I laugh at him and he is
humbled by the knowledge that I will never set him free. He is my sweet
bitch meat, and I OWN him.

Some people cannot believe that it is just a fucking story.

Tough, cuz it is.

It is not a fantasy that I have, a deep dark desire to rape, to
humiliate, to dominate, to break a woman, a man, a small child...good
God! That is not who I am!
Some people think if I write about rape, I am a rapist or want to be..
If I write from a female POV I must be a woman. If there is a racist in
my story I must be a bigot. If I have a black man, maybe I am black.
Lord help me when I write a gay story.
They cannot contain me. They cannot sort me, filter me, distill me into
a nectar that they find tasteful, that makes sense to them. I dare them
to define me. I challenge you to understand me. They cannot paint me in
a quiet little corner. I am far too simple for them to understand. I am
what I am and that is all that I am. All that I want to be.

Some people do not know me.
But Reader you might.

Do not like me, or pray for me. Do not trust me or fear me. You owe me
nothing save this: Simply experience me and defend my right to express
myself. I owe you nothing save this: to try my best to make you
think--to touch you in some way. Sometimes my touch is gentle and tender
and will bring a tear to your eye. Sometimes my touch is coarse and
harsh and scary. Often my touch is an erotic defilement, a finger where
it does not belong, a guilty grin, a nasty twisted little snicker that
permeates, that lingers long after it should be gone.

Some people think I write for them
I write for me.

Don't get me wrong, I think rapists would enjoy my stories. (Although
none have ever told me so). I think their victims might appreciate them
too (Many have written to tell me that they do). Some say my stories may
push an unstable mind over the edge, across the line into rape. I ask
your god, I beg your deity, I pray to himherit that they are wrong (So
far none have ever confessed to me. To be honest even if they did I am
not sure I would accept their blame). Two women have written me to tell
me they have avoided rape because of my stories (I accept their thanks,
but...that is not why I wrote them).
I have said it many times, I'll say it again. It is just a fucking
story! Do not give it power that it was never meant to have.

Some people get confused about what I am trying to describe.

I'll try to explain.

I do not write about sex. I write about fucking. Penis, Vagina Breasts,
Clitoris,...NO, NO, NO! The tools of my trade are Cock, Dick, Prick.
Pussy, Cunt, Snatch, tits, tits, tits, clit, clit, clit. My people do
not "merge together in a glorious union". No it is more basic than that.
They "fuck hard and hot and nasty until they are slimy with sweat and
sex, and sin". My people do not "clutch each other as they spasm, as
they climax in glorious release". No it is more primal than that. They
"cum, and drip and howl and rut and fuck wildly and fiercely until they
are spent, until their cocks are broken and their pussy's are sloppy,
sloshing, soggy little holes".

There is a difference.

Some people think...
Who cares what they think!

There, now I can rest easy.