Date: Mon, 3 Jun 2013 14:51:27 -0700 (PDT) From: August Zellner Subject: Julian - Day 8 - Epilogue JULIAN Epilogue – Day 8 I was driving alone southbound on I-24 in Tennessee. It was early Saturday afternoon and I had passed through Nashville without stopping – no, I'm not gonna stop in Nashville on my way home from Indiana, if you're not a country music fan there's really nothing to see there anyway. Later today I'll stop in Chattanooga again, but this time I'll go to the Tennessee Aquarium and the downtown riverfront – then it's on to northern Georgia and find a place to stay tonight. Tomorrow I'll be back home in Florida with no problem. I had put all my surviving porn together in a plastic shopping bag which was sitting beside me on the passenger seat. The DVD's, the camcorder tape, and the camera memory card, all in that bag. Why did I have it sitting there out in the open, instead of hidden under the back seat? Maybe last night's hard drive crash was making me act a little strangely? I don't know, but having that child porn sitting right there was making me feel a little paranoid. Suppose a cop pulls me over and wants to search the car? Suppose a semi comes over the next hill, flies across the median and causes a 23-car pile-up and I get killed, and when they turn over my belongings to my wife she finds all that porn? Suppose ... oh you are such a shit-head! Because really, if I get bashed to smithereens and they go through my car looking for my belongings, they're gonna find that porn even if it's under the seat, right? But if it's sitting here on the passenger seat when the car explodes in a million pieces, maybe there'd be a better chance that the shopping bag would go flying and nobody would ever find it afterwards. Or maybe ... ? And so I drove along and brooded paranoiacly about my porn. I was thinking about what to have for lunch when I saw a sign for a Golden Corral – the same Golden Corral where I took Julian for supper one week before. I smiled to myself, thinking about Julian and everything that had happened since that last restaurant stop. I'll go there again for lunch, just for fun. Before I went into the restaurant I stuffed the bag of porn under the seat. Yeah, like that'll keep somebody from finding it if my car gets broken into. When I went inside I noticed that the table Julian and I sat at last week was again open, so that's where I sat. I thought about Julian while I ate. I wonder what he's doing right now. Clearing out his village and building the ceremonial hut? Eating lunch and listening to the clan chief go on and on about his plans for the ceremonial alter? Fucking Lupita? Fucking another girl? I wonder if Julian and Lupita have a future together ... because really, how long does young love last? Not that long, usually. When I got back out to the car I pulled the shopping bag out from under the seat and set it back down again beside me. I sat there and looked at it for a couple of minutes while I obsessed about its contents. Then I reached inside the bag – I couldn't see what was in there but I could feel everything. The adult porn videos were in their DVD boxes, but my home-made child porn of Mohawk was in one of those paper CD envelopes with a plastic window. The camcorder video of Julian, which of course was also child porn, was in its little plastic box, but the camera memory card was just floating around loose in there. I pulled out all the DVD boxes together. I looked at my fist-full of porn and thought, well here's the legal stuff ... the one on top was "Fucked By Two Black Men." Okay, now this one is a classic, I said to myself, and even though it's been a while since I've watched it, I definitely want to hang onto it. So I laid it down on the car seat. The next one was "Afro-Asian Fuck-Fest #6." I harrumphed to myself. You see? I thought, this is just the kind of thing I was thinking of last night when I said I have shit I haven't even watched in years. I opened the box and took out the DVD and started fiddling with it. Why did I even bring this with me? I thought, even though it's legal adult porn, it's total bullshit. Maybe you could say it reminds me of Tyron and Rachel and Judy, but that's not even in a good way! And even though I lost a lot of my videos and photos of Tyron and his bitches in last night's hard drive crash, there was still some left on the secret USB drive, including some pretty lewd shit ... I began to obsess about what I had lost last night, but even more so about what remained. Over the years I had sprinkled most of those lewd photos of Tyron and his bitches – and Mohawk too – in with my collection of "near-porn" photos downloaded from the internet. If you are the kind of person reading this story, I know you must have asked yourself, where exactly is the line between legal "near-porn" and illegal child porn anyway? Suppose I have a photo of 13-year-old Tyron and two of his bitches all making out together on the couch in my apartment. They are only partially clothed, but at least none of their genitals are exposed. They are all frenching and making out and feeling each other up, but at least at the moment the photo was taken nobody was actually fondling anybody else's crotches. Is that child porn? "Oh NO your honor, that is not child porn, that is merely three very affectionate black teenagers!" Of course, whenever I look at that photo I know that within minutes after it was taken those kids were in Tyron's sex palace fucking up a storm! Or what about a photo of The Mohawk Boy standing out on the timeshare pool deck in South Florida? The photo is taken from crotch level looking upward. In the foreground is his tight little red-and-white striped speedo, and the outline of his huge black cock and balls are ssssoooooo obvious in there that it makes me drool every time I look at it, and behind that his young muscular chest rises above the swimsuit and his beautiful face is looking down at me, with the first part of that exotic red Mohawk showing on top of his head. So now I ask you, is THAT child porn? "Oh NO your honor, that can't possibly be child porn because as you can plainly see this boy's penis is fully covered and not in a turgid state – it's just very large!" And what about all those other photos so plentiful on open, moderated sites all over the internet? Photos of children French-kissing in their underwear – topless little girls in wet underwear so tight you can easily see the folds of their little pussies – countless photos of boys partially pulling their underwear off, or of naked boys where the photo is cut off in a way that still shows a part of his leg so it's absolutely clear he is naked and smiling at you as if to say, "Ya wanna suck my dick mister?" Is THAT child porn? "Oh NO your honor, how can you say that's child porn when the genitals are concealed?" Where is the line between porn and near-porn – and what actually crosses the line? I looked back at "Afro-Asian Fuck-Fest #6." I held the DVD by the edges and started to squeeze. SNAP! Goodbye. Then I looked at the last DVD box. This of course was "Mexican Teenage Pro Girls." So, how do I feel about this one? First of all, I've only watched two out the four "features" and those were REALLY hot. Shouldn't I at least hang onto it for a while and watch those other two features? Of course! But is it child porn ... ? "Oh NO your honor, it says right here on the box that all the `actors' are at least 18 years old!" I can just hear the judge laughing now ... but ... maybe all these kids really are 18, and they were chosen because of their youthful appearance and had all their body hair removed ... you and I both know pornographers do that all the time. So I laid it down on the car seat on top of "Fucked By Two Black Men." I continued to obsess about the items still in the bag. Then I reached in again. The biggest thing still in there was the paper CD envelope containing my two carefully edited DVD's of that beautiful gang-bang in South Florida so long ago. I pulled it out and looked at it. I had destroyed the original surveillance camera videotapes a long time ago to reduce the amount of incriminating evidence stored at my secret hiding place – because, let's face it, all this is definitely child porn. Now that the hard drive was fried, these two disks were all that remained of my video of that day. Each disk contained two "features." The first disk began with a fairly straight-forward presentation of that hot preteen inter-racial three-way fuck, followed of course by the beautiful love scene between Mohawk and White Feather when he fucked the shit out of her and got her pregnant with little Hawk – all using video from the best camera angles among the 8 different surveillance cameras. The remaining three "features" were different mind-bending versions of that same gang-bang that emphasize different kinds of sex acts, carefully edited for maximum pornographic impact. I had spent years working on these edits in the privacy of my secret hiding place. I took the disks out of the envelope and became more and more paranoid as I looked at them. Suppose I survive the 23-car pile-up, what then? The cops find these two disks while the paramedics are loading me into the ambulance, and I will wish I had been killed because my life is over anyway. Everything that's so important to me – my wife, my family, my career, everything – is destroyed just because I was stupid enough to bring these two disks with me on this trip. The judge orders me held without bail while I await sentencing, and asks that the prosecution turn over these disks to him so he can review the evidence – over and over again – before deciding the term of my incarceration. Or what if my car gets stolen from the Tennessee Aquarium parking lot, taken for a joy ride and ditched on the side of the road, only to be searched by the cops after they find it? And what about all the time I had that laptop and its hard-drive full of child porn stored up in my secret hiding place, worrying constantly that I might be burglarized and then all that porn would be splattered all over the internet? Mohawk and White Feather are so happy now, going to college together and spending every free minute exploring new and different sexual experiences – and their summer of non-stop sex produced a new little sister for young Hawk – and all that happiness could be destroyed if their one-day tryst from so long ago was suddenly going viral on Sex Tube. They just don't deserve that! Or what if my laptop thieves were arrested and my laptop and discs were recovered and the cops looked at them and ... ? I was breaking out into a cold sweat, even in my hot car, as I imagined ever more terrifying possibilities. But in my paranoid state one truth was becoming very clear: The only thing now standing between me and freedom from all this constant worry and fear is these two discs. I held one up by the edges and started to squeeze. My hand was shaking and I couldn't look! And then – SNAP!! Suddenly I felt as though my guts had been ripped open! I held up the other disc quickly and squeezed before I lost my nerve and – SNAP!! Goodbye! Oh shit oh SHIT OH GOD! Did I really do that?? I suddenly felt weak all over and collapsed in my car seat still shaking. After a minute I piled the broken pieces of the two discs on top of the "Afro-Asian Fuck-Fest #6" box and looked at them. I still have my memories, locked up in the prison of my mind. No one can ever take that away from me. But I still couldn't calm down. No – even destroying those discs wasn't enough. I reached inside the bag again and the first thing my fingers touched was the camera memory card, so I pulled that out. "Your honor, there is no child porn on this memory card. Yes there are 46 photos of Julian in various states of undress, including one where he is wearing only the `men's cup' – plus the one photo of those kids playing fútbol at the ceremonial clearing – but naked? Not even one, you honor." "Case dismissed!" Of course, my wife would IMMEDIATELY divorce me, and I'd never see my family again, but at least I wouldn't be spending the rest of my life in a physical jail – only the mental prison I already inhabit. I put the little card on the "keep" pile, on top of "Mexican Teenage Pro Girls." But then I reached in the bag one last time. The only thing still in there was the camcorder video. I took that videotape out of its little plastic box and rolled it around in my fingers as I looked at it. I haven't even had a chance to see much of this, but I know that what's on this tape is worse than everything else put together – because about half of it is undisputable child porn in the form of Julian and Lupita fucking on the couch, and the other half is ME, committing SEXUAL PERFORMANCE UPON A CHILD!! If any cop ever sees this tape, I'll be spending the rest of my life behind bars, defenseless against any latino gang-bangers who want to beat me to death for my crime. This tape is like the ring in Lord of the Rings – the one thing I am irresistibly drawn to will destroy me utterly. You must throw that ring into the volcano, Frodo – only then will you be free of it! I opened the car door and stepped out, holding the camcorder tape and the broken DVD pieces. I looked around, still shaking, paranoiacly making sure there were no cop cars, and no restaurant customers anywhere nearby. I was parked on the kitchen side of the building, so at least there were no windows where customers could see me easily out the window. I was sweating and breathing heavily. I dropped the little videotape on the pavement. I stomped my shoe on the videotape – HARD! I stomped on it again – and again! I twisted my heal around on it to grind the tape into the asphalt. I looked down at the remains of the camcorder tape on the ground. Still shaking, I reached down and picked up the tape and looked at it more closely to make sure it was utterly destroyed. Then I carried everything over to the nearest trash can and threw it all in, still looking around to reassure myself that nobody was watching me do that. Once back in my car, I turned it on to run the air conditioning but sat in the parking space for several minutes. As those minutes passed, I began to feel a great calmness come over me. Yes it's really true, I thought, I'm "free" now. And if you had told me 24 hours ago, when I was creeping Julian out with my soliloquy about being imprisoned by my perverted fantasies, that I was about to destroy every piece of illegal child porn I possessed, I'd have said that was not possible – that I did not have the will power to do it. But now it was done. I was "free." Of course, I was only "free" of my fear of being arrested for possession of child porn – a fear that had gnawed at me and caused me to wake up at night in a cold sweat for many years – but that was plenty good enough for now. I still have 46 photos of Julian on the camera memory card, and the secret USB drive full of "near-porn" back at the secret hiding place. I can never be free of my fantasies about boys, and I don't want to be free of my memories of Julian and everything that had happened this week. But I can at least be free of my consuming paranoia. I drove out of the parking lot and continued my journey on I-24 towards Chattanooga. I was going back to my world, and my job, and my wife and family, and when I did that it would be just like none of this ever even happened – I'll lock it all up in the prison of my mind and keep it all there forever. No one will ever know what's none of their fuckin' business anyway – that I'm a man who fell in love with a boy who fell in love with a girl who showed us both a new world.