This is a fictional story told by Max J. Clayton.

Why is I akways fall in love with the ones that don’t want me?

Time after time, Roxy, Maxine, Tanya and others. Roxy I waited more than 10 years.

It’s the friendships I fall in love with.

Time after time.

With my wives, it was the sex.  Actually the third one was a good one that I could talk to.

Blind date.

The only time I’ve ever been set up on a blind date.

However, every date is a blind date every time I meet a woman. I’m evaluating whether she could be wife material.  I look into their mind when they think I’m looking in their eyes.

However, conversation is a plus even though I could speak Telepathically putting thoughts in her head.  I just like talking.

It’s why I became a customer service phone rep. The gift of gab is all mine.

Being an Incubus, I could calm them down regardless of the situation.  It was easy for me.

I watched others suffer mental breakdowns dealing with working for a health insurance company. 

Poor fuckin’ men and women.

Watching it happen time after time.

This is a fictional story told by Max J. Clayton.

If ever a lyric said it all, Cherry White hit it with Riding Bikes.

I look at as is I’m a mirror to my prey, prey, really?

Having a conservation with your food should be enjoyable, but your food doesn’t know it’s food until the fucking begins.  Then you might say some shit in the throws of passion.

I’ve said a few things.

I love the way you taste.

You’re feeding me so much.

If they noticed, I could say it was the moment that caught me, and that’s when they say “oh.”

It passes as nothing.

What if I find a Succubus?

Then we feed each other, however break ups occur when we do that.  You can only hang out with the same person for so long until contempt comes in.

I’ve heard it from many anytime I say I should be looking for a Succubus. 

In fact the longest lasting relationship that an Incubus and a Succubus have had has been around 200 years give or take. 

Many have tried.

We used to think we needed to mate with our own to produce more. Not so. It’s a genetic mutation and many Incubi and Succubi had none of the mutation through their lineage. 

Many have no idea what they are, they just think they’re sex addicts.

Oh how I wish I was a sex addict.

It would explain a lot, but then there’s the other shit I do. That is tell tale signs, this one ain’t fuckin’ normal.

Way not normal.

This is a fictional story told by Max J. Clayton.

I met someone who I never thought would dig me. Could it be my celibacy is paying off?

I like women in their 40’s and she’s in her 30’s. She is at that point between being a girl and a woman.  She’s quite intelligent.

But, let it be, and let it go, and let it grow.

The girl is the naivety, as she grows into the woman, that naivety dissafuckinppears.

It’s interesting as I’ve seen others hit on her in rapid fashion.

I’m 152, and I’m caught up on her being in her 30’s, “oh by the way I’m 152 and an Incubus, and that means I feed on sex, and you are a tasty morsel. “

Yeah, no.

Being a gentleman isn’t easy, being a gentleman Incubus is a matter of using their mind to feed me. The only thing I say is shit she’ll be interested in.

It keeps the conversation going.

Being a Telepath is as fun as it sounds.

This is a fictional story told by Max J. Clayton.

We, Incubi and Succubi are others, there’s no fucking way around it. If we came out…fuuuuuuuuck.

Looking at how most people want everyone to be like them, and we aren’t.  We’re a genetic mutation. 

From what I get, no one really knows where it came from, and why we exist as we do. It sucks ass that I never can have a normal life.

Oh well.

Done with bitching, what else do I need to write about it in this journal?

It’s not bitching, it’s my life.

I’m one in ten. To find another 1 in ten is a as fucked as gets. So many who don’t know what they are, and fuck that if anyone thinks I’m going to be the one to tell them.

“Yo, you get you feed on sex and are an Incubi/Succubi?”

“Fuck off crazy man.”

I’ve had the experience too many times. 

This is a fictional story told by Max J. Clayton.

Being an Incubus who stopped having sex, has nothing to do with ever feeling guilty about any fucking I’ve ever done.

I’m glad we fucked and I loved their every orgasm that fed me.

I remember when Tina said “You always make love to a woman, then you fuck the holy living shit out her.”

Yeah.

That was my response.  What Tina never knew was I wanted to feed and I take my time when I’m feeding. All that foreplay is to increase her orgasmic pleasure.  The higher the level of her orgasm, I get better fed.

My ex-wife screamed “I can’t stop cumming!”, frequently while we had sex. I never fed so well. 

She had reached the peak and I always wanted to see if she get higher.

It’s partly my being and empathic amplifier,  what I take in, I amplify and give it back amplified.

It’s why sex with a Succubus and an Incubus is the feeding frenzy. Two amplifiers fucking each other, oh, oh I miss it.

Oh well, I think I’m on the way to be prey hunted by a Succubus. 

Here’s to hoping she’s hungry.

This is a fictional story told by Max J. Clayton.

I was watching Highlander and Heather was my favorite character. She loved Connor and no idea he wouldn’t age. He loved her and wouldn’t ever leave her until she died.

That’s what it’s like for my kind. We can be killed, but watching a spouse die whike we look ageless, knowing we will go on. It gives love a perspective that only we know.

The loves I’ve had in my short 150 years compared to 5,000 years. 

That was the question I had.

She answered it.

Each one is different and it’s why we fall in love with any. Find one you can talk to, and and the rest will take care of itself. 

We do marry each other on occasion. Abby, was a Succubus to my Incubus. 

So if she hates me for fucking up her life, she be hating me for a long ass motherfucking time. 

Or

She could forgive me and give me my god damn fucking divorce!

I figure it’s been more than a century and if I hadn’t looked her up, well, I did.

Nothing I can do about it.

Nor would I want to.

Face me you fucking Succubus.

If anyone ever reads this, how the fuck do I explain it.

Oh well, fucked I may be, but fucked well if anyone ever sees.

This is a fictional story told by Max J. Clayton.

I figured some shit out im order to feed without having sex.

I jerk off.

However, the fantasies are me in other universes and that is what allows me to feed without physically fucking, I fuck in my soul, which is infinite.

It’s all in the way you use it like Clapton sang.

I’m aware enough to know I’m infinite, I’m a woman and man. I have both feminine and masculine energy within, so I figured out how as a woman I’d eat pussy.

My feminine side is a straight up lesbian.

This is a fictional story told by Max J. Clayton.

Ooooh, the first wife. I’ll never be free from her. We did vows under the name of a goddess, doing our marriage in Wiccan fashion.

We never did get the ritual we needed for a divorce. As far as the goddess is concerned, we’re still married, and that bitch is rich.

I looked her up using an F.B.I buddy to look into her and where she went in the Air Force. Red flags went up like mad and I fucked up her life.

He couldn’t find her name, and it’s as is if she was never there. Black ops, or her parents were that fucking loaded they could make her dissappear.

Anyway, I changed my name several times because of the assassination attempts on my life. 

I really pissed her off.

Never underestimate my ability to piss anyone off. Used to be my trademark.

“Motherfucker.  How does he do it?”

The most frequent people think in dealing with me. Being a Telepath, I get these motherfucker moments. 

We’re all connected by the same thread, and once I have tasted your thread, I can find out anything I want.

There’s nothing anyone can do.

If I wasn’t trustworthy, I could get laid everyday.  I could use a woman’s mind to my advantage.

If anyone reads this shit, I’m fucked as fucked gets. 

Fuck it.

This is a fictional story told by Max J. Clayton.

The shit I do to groups of people.  As an Incubus if I’m having a good time, everyone else is not having a good time.

If I’m a miserable son of a bitch, everyone is having fun.

The fights I’ve seen because I was having a good time between people who never fought. From the yelling and what they were yelling at each other, fisticuffs were bound to happen. 

I figured it out, and it’s what I do with energy. If I don’t want to be bothered, everyone around me is trapped in their energy. They can’t repress or suppress shit.

I like having a good time. 

So people get to get fucked and it’s not something I intentionally do, it’s my energy.

I look at it this way, they get shit out and have to deal with it, fuck ’em if they can’t deal with their shit.

I’ve met other Incubi and Succubi and we all agree, fuck ’em.

If they dealt with themselves honestly, and saw themselves as they are, fuuuuuuuck.

Awareness is a gift and a curse.

The truly gifted have high awareness of themselves and the impact their life makes. 

The curse is living in this fuckety fucking fuck world. 

I did it, and I’ll do it again, and again until people fucking change and learn. 

The other Incubi and Succubi are aligned with it. We represent more than a 10% of the world’s population. 1 in 10 is an Incubus or Succubus. 

I can hold a party of 50, and as we get older we get stronger. Imagine the oldest. If I can hold 50 at 152.

Man the elders that have lived more than a thousand years, fuuuuckety fuck fuck.

I love my life, it’s so incredibly awesome being what I am.

I don’t feel sorry about it, not even a little bit.

Fuck ’em if they can’t take the joke they are.

In fact, I always mean it.

This is a fictional story told by Max J. Clayton.

What is it about a king or a queen that drives them insane?

The queen of my universe, meaning I’d have to a king. Fuck that noise.

If anything I’m a jester and happy to be.

The Jester King.

What if we the king was the jester?

Telling the king through jokes what he should do. What if the king was just some dude pretending?

This is what I think about, I get why women aren’t beating down my door. 

Fuck kings and fuck queens, and for that matter fuck everyone on this planet, I wish I could, the feeding would be insane. 

I need to a stump buster. More than ten years and one, one night stand would fuck it all to hell.

I don’t know if I could do it.  Ten years of not riding a bike, sex ain’t no bike. What I lost it?

What if she wasn’t cumming, that’s how I feed.

Fuck it, I’m not going to have a one night stand, two nights.

Who in the blue holy fuck do I think I am?

I’d fuck for two nights and I’d be hungry, and I’d stay for 3, and then a 1 year.

Oh well, it was a thought.

Not a good one.

But….

This is a fictional story told by Max J. Clayton.

What is love without lust?

I’m not sure what love is without lust, I mean I’m a being that feeds on sex. If I don’t lust you, how can you feed me.

This is why celibacy was what I needed.

I couldn’t understand what love was unless it was wrapped in lust.

Tina and I proved lust can only take one so far. But the places it took us.

Now, I notice the ones who wear no make up.

Now, I notice the ones I like talking with.

I notice everything. 

Once the lust was gone, what was it I truly want?

The endless conversation. I’ve had it a few times. 

The last was a heartbreak and I loved every moment of it, and her, Jeanine Ro.

We talked everyday throughout the day through text. Every night she fell asleep on me, every night.

She was fierce in her what it was that pissed her off that made her sexy in a dangerous way.

Like a cat, if the cat wants love, the cat will get love. If the cat doesn’t want love, teeth and claws, and damn she had some claws. 

It was so good that we met online, otherwise I would have done anything she wanted.

I did take care of her, and she was one of the ones who dated a dude who reminded her of me.

That hurt like hell.

This is a fictional story told by Max J. Clayton.

I thought about it, and I break the male and thr female of the species into 3 groups.

Guys will fuck your wife and tell you all about it. They are the boys who never grew up.

Masculine toxicity at it’s worst.

Dudes will never do the wrong thing and most Dudes who got killed, it was probably protecting a broad. 

Dudes have more respect for women then they have for themselves. 

A Man knows when to do the wrong thing. Typically it will be a Woman that can get him to do the wrong thing.

Girls are the evil that is evil to it’s core. Lying and using emotional manipulation at every turn. 

I’ve met adult girls who were 50+.

Broads think they have bigger balls then men do.  It’s when they think they can cut a Guy with words until he decides he’s going to beat the shit out her.

This is where Dudes who see this shit, end up taking the beating for them.  Hence why Broads are the biggest threat to a Dudes life.

A Woman, a died in flames phoenix, is a glory to behold.  Hence why only a Woman can get a Man to do the wrong thing.

A Woman will have a Girl in one hand, a Broad in the other, while kicking some dude in the ass, while her Man is saying “I told you not to let my Woman here about this shit.”

Or maybe I’m wrong.

I don’t think so.

This is a fictional story told by Max J. Clayton.

That’s the thing, I will always out live people unless they are Succubi and Incubi. There’s this one woman that has lived for 50,000 years.

I can’t imagine living that long.

I got the chance to meet her, and holy blue fucking shit. She was an 11. I’ve never seen such beauty. It could be her “glamor ” was working on me.  From what I understand the pheromones get stronger as we age. 

That had to be it.

She looked around 40, yet I could sense she was much older.  It was in conversation, that’s when she let it slip what her age was. 

She had patience like I’ve never seen. I met her when I was 20, still im my cunt waffle period.

She didn’t even budge when I hit her with my best shit. She simply said “oh really.”

She could have been pissed, but I wouldn’t know it. She was a classy lady. She wouldn’t stoop down to my level.

This is where I learned a lot about what we can do.  Mom told me the basics, but this broad taught me more about me than I ever knew. 

That’s why I love older women. Of course I will never be with an older woman, I’m well over 100 years old. But back in my twenties, I loved women in their 40’s.

They knew how to take care of a man, and I took very good care of them.

I figured we were friends first, and fuck buddies second. It was the friendships that made the women that were mine that made me all theirs. 

I could tell them everything, accept the fact that I’m an Incubus.  We were the best of friends, and I noticed the more the friendship grew, the better our fucking got.

Find friend I want to fuck.

Doesn’t sound difficult, but oh how difficult it is.

Simple doesn’t mean easy.

It may be hard as fuck, but it can be easier. 

Nothing is ever easy.

This is a fictional story told by Max J. Clayton.

When we first started dating, my last wife and I saw some B-Movie where the female lead said to the male lead “You can frost my face like a cake.”

I think it may have been MY BIG FAT INDEPENDENT MOVIE.

After we got married, well I ended up frosting her face while she used a dildo in my ass.

Figures the male g-spot can only be accessed through the asshole. 

She said “Cum on my face.”

Who was I to tell her no.

I miss that one. We had the greatest sex I’ve ever had. That she wanted to be a submissive to my master. I took my time with her.

She was my toy, and I loved playing with my toy. From the spanking, to the deep throating, to the squirting.  Everything an Incubus could ever want.

She was a lady by day, but by night she was my whore.

That’s just it, she was a lady and I treated her as such. I loved treating her as a lady. 

If she hadn’t been a pathological liar, I’d still be with her.

Haven’t seen her in more than 15 years.

I wonder…

This is a fictional story told by Max J. Clayton.

Lead, follow or fuck the fuck off.

What is it I look for a Q of my U?

Can she lead?

Would I follow?

What is it I look for the Q of my U?

Is she compassionate or enabling?

Does her heart thirst for truth, or will a lie get her going?

The Q of my U must look for truth in everything.

She will be brutal in her compassion, as one needs to get hurt from the truth before the healing begins.

What is it I look for in the Q of my U?

Patience with her lust.

Patience to know if she can trust.

This is what I look for in every woman. Every woman has the possibility to be the Q of my U.

At least until she dies or divorces me.

The first couple of divorces hurt like hell. The last one, that just freed me.

I never thougt I would feel free after divorce. I couldn’t wait to be rid of her. Even though I hope she finds healing within herself. 

The narcissism and the pathological lying is something that will get her killed someday.

Even though she could fuck like a crazy bitch. Why is it the crazy ones are better in bed?

I’ve had a few women and the crazier they are, the better the fucking.

At one point we had this slave master thing going on. At one point I actually said “Stop talking and suck my dick.”

Usually, I wouldn’t say that to any woman, but I felt like she liked it when I bossed her around.

I get it, and I don’t get it.

Her delusional fantasies included that she owned my soul, me an Incubus. 

That I don’t get.

However, I like being told what to do in bed. 

What gets you off is my pleasure. 

This is a fictional story told by Max J. Clayton.

I’ve loved being an Incubus.  The feeding is everything I live for. 

How to tell your wife you’re an Incubus?

Don’t.

“Yeah, sweetie, I feed on your orgasms.”

That isn’t going to work.

How to even put the subject into a conversation.

It was twenty years ago today that my last wife got told.

She didn’t take it well, and thought I was crazy. I am crazy, but the Incubus is the truth.

That was the beginning of the end. I told her I can read her thoughts. The thoughts she had about others when we had sex, broke me.

I could hear her in her mind talking to the guy.

It was a friend if mine who wanted to slaughter us. I never tried telling her that. I figured she wouldn’t believe me.

Pathological liars can’t take the truth.

She had a 25 year old daughter.

I was hurt. So when I thought about fucking her daughter, I knew she knew. And she got off on it.

What in the blue holy fuck?

That’s repulsive to me.  I thought if she saw that in her mind, she’d be turned off. I never wanted her daughter, I wanted my wife to think about us.

Oh how that backfired.

Never try to outcrazy crazy.

This is a fictional story told by Max J. Clayton.

I was thinking about, what do bats in hell actually look like, and do they even have bats in hell?

This is what I think about it when Bat out of Hell by Meatloaf is playing.

It’s an intelligent question, and I have no answer for it.

Being as old as I am, I’ve seen a bunch of shit. But I still have questions that have no answers.  That’s a very comforting feeling. 

After I passed 100, it just seems like a blur. My life used to kept in video reels and I could watch my minds eye to review my life.

Now, it’s a blur.  I wonder if it is because he already learned what my video reels were there to show me, or is because after 100 years I get shit and don’t have to think about it, the answer is always there.

I think it’s a little of both.

Oh well. 

I’ve got my eye on one. She’s intelligent but we keep having these conversations that go nowhere because we get interrupted. 

Patience with lust, that’s what I need, patience with my lust. 

What is it actually like about this one that has nothing to do with her body?

That’s the question.

This is a fictional story told by Max J. Clayton.

What is it an Incubus does?

How do we know each other?

What makes us different?

Pheromones.

We put out pheromones that other’s find intoxicating.  Each of us is mirror knowing what you want to hear.

It’s a really dirty fucking trick, and I thought if I could just see androgynous souls, I wouldn’t want to fuck any of them.

After years, I need to feed.

Oh their orgasmic energy calls to me.

Not really, but shit I need to get fucking laid.

However, I’ve learned much about how women are.  There a lot like me, only they have been trained to let their emotions do the living.  Not all.  There are some truly wise women that I used to go to for advice.

Those poor fucking women, they walked me and talked me through so much in my life.

Sisters, the ones I never had. I love my big sisters.  All the hell I put them through. 

Stayed on each of the their couches after I got thrown out.

Some of them were Succubi.  We never had sex, but from what I get we would be addicted to each other.

That’s why I stopped having one night stands. I didn’t need another addict who was addicted to my cock.

When of us fucks a normal person, we become addictive for that person.  We actually addict others. 

It’s why I’m a marrying Incubus. I don’t need addicts craving sex they can’t have.  For them, we are the fuck of their life.

Succubi and Incubi have this ability. 

I felt bad after I saw one that was a one night stand.  We fucked years ago. I could see it in eyes, she wanted me and her body language showed it.

Then, Tina hit me up.  I could hear in hear voice.

Then, then, then I saw a lot of my night stands, each of them had a longing for more sex.

That’s what killed me. I had left them all suffering. 

I never wanted any to suffer for anything I did.  This is what the celibacy is for.  To protect them from me.

I’ll marry one, and I’ll make her dreams come true. I forget what I can do as far as my manifestation gift.

It’s as if Succubi and Incubi can create for someone, but for ourselves, nothing but the necessities. 

I need to find one the wants a ranch or a farm.

I’ve been working on a hemp farm, and I’d love to give a woman a hemp farm, of course she has to marry me, but and I have no candidates. 

Oh well, back to the drawing board.

This is a fictional story told by Max J. Clayton.

I used to be the horniest dog ever. Mantras were the key.

Don’t call women bitches. 

Unless we’re having sex and she says “Fuck me like a dirty bitch.”

I’m surprised that this has happened more than once.  It’s why I still use the mantra.

Don’t say cunt in front of a woman.

Unless we’re having sex and she says “Fuck my cunt.”

Again, has happened frequently.  Keep this mantra in place. 

Don’t stare at her tits.

Unless we’re having sex, then stare all you want. 

Or, she’s my wife, then they are only tits I’m allowed to stare at.

Then I learned the art of mind sex. It’s where we talk about everything, and there is nothing taboo.

From what I gather from the hundred plus years I’ve been around, this is what puts women in the mood.  Talking to them and listening to what they say.

Why is it men are stupid?

Why is it women are stupid?

Bodies. 

We’re so enamored by the body, we forget, it’s just a meat suit, and we’re all souls with different meat suits. 

I refined my tastes.

Abby wouldn’t stand a chance with me now.

I need the intellect, or no fucking. 

From my wives, I got played the first 4 times, number 5 was the special one.  That’s when I meet her.

I’ve dreamed of how I can make a woman. Then that takes all the fun out of it.  If she was made for me, based on my parameters, fuck that noise. 

I can’t manifest a woman.

However, I’ve studied the Law of Reflection. 

Just be me, and I’ll find my mirror.

This is a fictional story told by Max J. Clayton.

How is it I fall in love with so many women?

I talk to them. Listen to what they’re saying. It’s in conversation that melts my heart with a ring of fire that lights up my chest.

Think about it. I’m an Incubus.  More intelligent than the average bear.  I became a sapiophile so looks can never deceive me. Intelligence is what I find sexy.

A vacuous women is not going to do it. If I can blow in her ear and put a hand around the other ear, and I feel air, fuck that noise.

It doesn’t matter how good she looks, Ron White was right, you can’t fix stupid.

I’ve met some stupid women. I’ve met some stupid men.

Gender isn’t a deciding factor with stupid. 

I’ve met some girls who were age 50 and up.

I’ve met some boys who were age 50 and up.

Gender isn’t the issue.  It’s these fucktards that are so fucking backwards in their thinking.

However, when a women can hold a conversation with me, oh how I fall in love with any women that can hold a conversation with me. 

That doesn’t mean I want to fuck them.

They have to take the sleep test, Satin’s sleep test.

If I sleep with them without even so much as kissing them, and when I wake up “Oh God, she’s still here and real.”

That’s when I put my romantic side to use.

Roses just because, or whatever her favorite flower is.

I’m a chef, not in the classical sense, however, I can make anything she wants.

Poetry. I write poetry about her on occasion.

Being loved by me is something I hear so many women say they want. 

I take care of a women that decides to give herself to me.

Just waiting for one to give herself to me.

Like a gentleman would. 

This is a fictional story told by Max J. Clayton.

I fell in love when I was five. Who in the fuck does that?

The ones I fall for are always my friends first. They have not once in my life fell back.

What sucks is when they tell me their dating someone that reminds them of me.

Fuckety fuck fuck. 

As time has gone on it still happens.  However, these days I don’t say anything.

There was my best friend from 8 years old.  She was someone that other women feared by the time she was 17. I get why.

Tabitha had a way.

I’d call her a bitch and she would get louder and louder until she was up in my face “And!”

“The nicest bitch I’ll ever meet.”

“And!” Repeated until I said.

“And I better not forget it.”

“Good boy.”

Then there was the stripper. I was 18 and they allowed 18 year olds. I went in the first time and I got a dance from one of the women.  She told me “When you come in here. See that corner. Go and sit there.”

It was the last dance the strippers had before they took a break. Then they sat along the bench. 

I have a way of rubbing a woman in all the right ways. It was if they got a massage from head to toe.

Satin, her stage name, that was my best friend.  I told her I wanted to sleep with her, actually sleep with not even so much as a kiss. 

When I woke up “My God, it wasn’t a dream.”

I told her and she let me down well.

Of course a hopeless romantic fell in love with a stripper. A few of them over the years.  It was the conversation we had.

They were my therapists.

I always knew where I stood with them. To this day I go strip clubs and sit in the back. Whoever comes by, I sit and talk until they ask me if I want a lap dance. I never ask for a lap dance. 

Here’s the thing about me, I’m shy as fuck with women until I get to know them. 

Today I spoke maybe a few words.  I live alone and I don’t like people. 

Imagine an Incubus who loves people, but doesn’t like them.

My parents, I loved them, but I never liked them. Had they not been my parents, I wouldn’t even had known they existed.

Love and like.

I love everybody, however, I like a few.

This like has me falling in love because of who they are. I never fall in love with a body, when it’s in the eyes that I see the soul. 

I’m an eye man.

This is a fictional story told by Max J. Clayton.

I take a look at myself as I always do before looking at others.

I care about my appearance, well I used to. Since I’m not on the prowl looking for a tasteful bit of orgasmic energy, I stopped caring about my appearance. 

The only reason I ever gave a shit, was to be attractive to women.  I used to go shopping the mall in the afternoon.  The place would be dead.

I’d find the woman working and say “I don’t know how to dress myself, can you find me some clothes that make me look hot.”

I’d spend 2 hours in the dressing room, trying shit on as it came over the door.

I used to shave daily.  Now I have a beard, and as beards go, I really need to shave. 

Since I don’t care about my appearance, I wear white t-shirts and khaki pants. I have enough for a week.

Now,  I looked at myself. 

When I look at others, it’s so sad how much effort people put into what they wear. You can see men want to look cool.  Women, some women are begging for attention and it shows in what they wear. Spandex dresses and tight little skirts, yoga pants.

It’s as if women’s wear is designed by pimps. 

“No girl, your ass is smoking in that, and the girls look goooood.”

Who put me in charge of anything?

Putting me in charge of anything is a sure fire way for it to blow up.  It will be a fucking disaster. 

I can’t even take charge of myself.

I need a drink. No I don’t. 

I need sex. I’m a starving Incubus. 

We work at being like everyone else.  We’re so not like everyone else. 

Incubi and Succubi don’t like having sex with many. We actually take wives and husbands.  We have children. 

It fucks up the soul to have many fucking partners.  It’s why we use a little trick to get our souls back after having sex.

I could use a woman, and then I say this thing everyday for 21 days, and I’m free and clear.

But why use a woman?

Woman use men and men use women.

Tina used me and decided to call me up.

How many have I used?

How many used me?

Men and women are both fucked as hell. 

I mean when I’m sitting around a group of women vs a group of men, the women are so much dirtier.

Men just want to show off how manly they are. Which is exactly how manly they aren’t.

Does anyone get what an alpha is?

They alpha is always watching the backs of the pack. Their not showing off for any.

When they’re needed, they’re exactly where they should be.

Leading from behind.

This is a fictional story told by Max J. Clayton.

I was looking at the 4 years of sex I had disguised as relationship, and fucking fucksticks.

Tina had 5 sisters, my mother had 5 sisters. Today is my mother’s birthday, Tina’s was yesterday.

How in the blue holy fuck did I miss that.  Oh right, the fucking was righteous.

She was ten years older than me and at times she liked to call me daddy. I just went with it. Her mind was full of being a 16 year old and it was kind of hot fucking a 35 year as a 25 year old.

Thankfully she’s the only one.

Tina made me a motherfucker. 

I was fucking a mother with 3 kids.

My sons mother met Tina’s sister on the 4th of July at the park.  Here’s what she said seeing my wife was pregnant.

“Max, you were the best thing that ever happened to Tina and her kids.”

I was just doing my best with both, Tina and her kids.

That’s why I use the term motherfucker as a badge of honor for all the moms I fucked, and took a stepdad approach with seriousness. 

If you are going to fuck a mother, you had better be the best stepdad they’ve ever seen.

It’s the training is got for my son. I watched how they raised their children and I gave them all the support the needed.

Bruce Lee said something like let everyone train you and make it uniquely your own. I learn from every situation. 

I allow the situation to unfold to see what I’m dealing with. It might look the same, but I’m not the same. If it’s other people, definitely not the same.

From mother to motherfucker, who could have been my mother, and she called me daddy.

Who has this life?

This is a fictional story by Max J. Clayton.

Lying.

Why do these fucktards lie?

Most of them lie to themselves and insist their lie is the truth. Being a Telepathic being on this motherfucking planet sucks balls. 

I’ve built tremendous patience with their lies.  Otherwise I’d be screaming at them all the fucking time.

Look at my last wife, the pathological liar.  This is how I built my patience, my tolerance for liars. Now it’s gone.

Every motherfucker will get the pain filled truth from me.

This is why I haven’t had sex in more than ten years. I quit drinking and all I can feel is their lies. 

It all starts with makeup. Make sure there nails are painted, the clothes.  The women that where the yoga pants and insist we don’t pay attention to their asses.

You’re showing it off. Off course this motherfucker is looking at your ass.

Spandex is the worst thing for an Incubus. I am sex.

Showing your tits and ass to everyone and if they notice, you blast them that your not wanting that kind of attention and you should be more evolved.

Fuck that bullshit.

You’re showing me a smorgasbord, and I’m not supposed to pay attention. 

Nothing says “LOOK AT ME!” more than the way some women dress. Dudes too, but I’m an Incubus, not gay.

Even my feminine side is a lesbian.

My last wife said “You’re a man worth shaving for. “

That’s how much time I spent between her legs with my face.

Patience is waiting until she grabs your head and screams “FUCK ME NOW MOTHERFUCKER!”

Usually takes about 30 to 45 minutes. 

This is a fictional story told by Max J. Clayton.

Speaking off me getting knocked down, for an Incubus celibacy is a way to knock me the fuck down and keeping me pinned.

I’m not sure if I’ll ever get back up again. Let’s face it, more than ten years and I still haven’t found one to share my gift with. It truly is a gift.

My ex-wives and girlfriends benefitted from having me.

What in the blue holy fuck happened to me?

I was a mans man. Then I stopped having sex.

Fuckety fuck fuck.

An Incubus who is celibate, sex is our power. May as well have killed me.

I haven’t been able to heal and I feel everything that has happened through my life.  The pain is unreal. 

I get why we don’t do celibacy.

I’d kill to fuck a woman.  I might actually kill if I don’t fuck a woman soon. 

What the fuck?

What I need is a drink. I get drunk and someone will fuck me. I don’t care if she’s 4. I don’t have to look at her face as I fuck her.

But, I’m not going to do it. I’m sure I’ll find someone who I spend a few years with. I’d like to say til death do us part. But I know she’ll die long before I do.

I mean grand dad is over 200 and still looks like he’s in his 50’s. From what he has told me, his mom is over 600 years old.

She lived 400 years before she had my grandfather. 

My mom is on her 4th husband after killing the last two with sex. 150 years old and still fucking like screaming banshee.

Where is this one that will get me, double entendre. More than double.

Who will understand me?

Who will get fucked like pornstar every night?

Who will get my protection?

Protection,  I haven’t talked about that yet.

How do I protect someone I’m fucking?

My spirit does some shit.  I bilocate. Every where my woman goes, I go with her.

I fucked guys up I never met. They wanted to hurt my woman and they paid dearly for it.

The first few got their necks broken before I realized I was doing it. Now, I just rough ’em up and send them on there way.

So who gets me?

Who wants me?

Apparently no one.

This is a fictional story told by Max J. Clayton.

I already said I tried forcing myself on others.

When I was 18 her name was Abby Clark. She was 22 and had fucked many. She was my second. 

We had sex and it was the first time I ever heard “MAX, FUCK ME IN THE ASS AS A HARD AS YOU CAN!”

Oh well, I really liked anal the first time. 

Then she said “Rape me.”

It wasn’t my idea to rape her.  However,  I got way into it. It was as if someone had taken over my body and I watched what was going on. 

I got rough with her, pinning her arms behind her back.  Growling in hear ear “Is this what you want?”

I never raped anyone. It was my 2nd girlfriend that I had sex with. I didn’t want to rape her.

It fucked me up.

I stopped and started crying. I couldn’t believe this blue eyed Gothic beauty wanted to be hurt. 

It way fucked me up. It was several fucks later before I could engage in rough sex. It made me gentle with fucking. 

I mean I was on the last wife before I could get rough with a woman.

Now, mind rape, that’s a thing. I’ve been raped in the minds of many women. The downside of being a Telepath. 

Being a Telepath isn’t cool as fuck, it’s a fucking pain in the ass. 

The women that I never wanted to fuck, those fugly fucking bitches. 

The fact I could see what they wanted to do to me, it fucked me up, and now I can’t look at any woman and not notice one nice thing about her.

Nice tits.

Nice legs.

Great ass.

God I want my cock in between those lips.

I got used to it. Being a play thing in their heads. They had no idea I knew their thoughts. 

But first it really got to me. It’s why I drank in order to have sex. That’s what turned me into an alcoholic.

One of my ex-wives, the one I had my son with, told my girlfriend “Just get him drunk.”

I had help into alcoholism.

When I drink, I’m happy horny drunk. Many women found that out. Many women still fantasize about the sex we had.

Being a Telepath, if it’s about me, I can’t not know. I’ve jerked myself off to several women who were fingering themselves somewhere else. 

That and we exchanged a piece of or souls. We were connected by the sex we had.

For me, it’s something thing I deal with. I’ve had a more than 10 years to think about it. Fuck this celibacy.

I really need to get laid.

Fuck that fucking curse and fuck that motherfucking bitch who cursed me.

Now that I write that, I hope she’s doing well and is happy with her life without me in it.

If I think about it, she probably hasn’t found one motherfucker who can fuck her as well as I did.

She never will.

When things were good, I’d slap her face and fucked her mouth, and treated her as a submissive when we fucking.

I miss fucking her.

If anyone ever reads this journal…

This is a fictional story told by Max J. Clayton.

You know Axl got a few things right.

Don’t damn me when I speak a piece of my mind
‘Cause silence isn’t golden when I’m holding it inside
I’ve been where I have been and I’ve seen what I have seen
I put the pen to the paper ’cause it’s all a part of me
Be it a song or casual conversation
To hold my tongue speaks of quiet reservations
Your words once heard they can place you in a faction
My words may disturb but at least there’s a reaction
Ooh-yeah, ooh-ooh-yeah

Sometimes I wanna kill, sometimes I wanna die
Sometimes I wanna destroy, sometimes I wanna cry
Sometimes I could get even, sometimes I could give up
Sometimes I could give, sometimes I never give a fuck
It’s only for a while, I hope you understand
I never wanted this to happen, didn’t want to be a man
So I hid inside my world, I took what I could find
I cried when I was lonely, I fell down when I was blind
Don’t damn me when I speak a piece of my mind
‘Cause silence isn’t golden when I’m holding it inside
I’ve been where I have been and I’ve seen what I have seen
I put the pen to the paper ’cause it’s all a part of me
How can I ever satisfy you?
And how can I ever make you see
That deep inside we’re all somebody
And it don’t matter who you wanna be?
But now I gotta smile I hope you comprehend
For this man can say it happened ’cause this child has been condemned
So I stepped into your world, I kicked you in the mind
And I’m the only witness to the nature of my crime
But look at what we’ve done to the innocent and young
Whoa, listen to who’s talking ’cause we’re not the only ones
The trash collected by the eyes and dumped into the brain
Said it tears into our conscious thoughts, you tell me, who’s to blame?
I know you don’t wanna hear me cryin’
And I know you don’t wanna hear me deny
That your satisfaction lies in your illusion
But your delusions are yours and not mine
We take for granted we know the whole story
We judge a book by its cover
And read what we want
Between selected lines
Don’t hail me and don’t idolize the ink
Or I’ve failed in my attentions, can you find the missing link?
Your only validation is living your own life
Vicarious existence is a fucking waste of time
So I send this song to the offended
I said what I meant and I’ve never pretended
As so many others do intending just to please
If I damned your point of view, could you turn the other cheek?
Don’t damn me when I speak a piece of my mind
‘Cause silence isn’t golden when I’m holding it inside
I’ve been where I have been and I’ve seen what I have seen
I put the pen to the paper ’cause it’s all a part of me
Don’t damn me
I said don’t damn me
I said don’t hail me
Don’t damn me
Smoke ’em if you got ’em
Alright! That sucked!

I understand everytime I hear this song, it truly is one of my favorite songs of all time.

If anyone reads this journal, just don’t damn me.

I was talking about genetics.  How is it we don’t get a DNA bump when we turn 18 that allows us to know this girl ain’t 18.

Oh how I miss Hannah Brannan. This woman was an 11 and she was 16 when I met her. I was 23. Thankfully her mother loved me.

Her mother put dinner for Thanksgiving and Christmas around my work schedule. 

We had a long conversation about life.

After that, Hannah was mine for the taking.

The first time I had no idea what her age was. All I knew was she had a perfect body. Even her feet were cute.  I hate feet.

We were on my bed and started making out, and then she pulled my cock out and started sucking me off.

When he had sex, I made love with that woman. I was slow at everything.  That’s whst having dinner should be. I went down on her for close to an hour every time we made love.  She returned the favor.

My sheets were soaking wet after we made love, squirter.

We made it 6 months.  What a six months.  I’ve never tasted anything so sweet in my 100 years to this day. 

It’s because of the hormones that Incubi and Succubi crave the younger men and woman.

Such power and they don’t even know it.

I never fucked Hannah, I made love with her. There was no kink. There were two bodies intertwined in every sexaul position we could do using the Karma Sutra. 

That’s the thing, once I figured out I was an Incubus, I had time and took time to learn everything about making a woman orgasm. That’s what I feed on.

From what I understand we’re all, Incubi and Succubi, empathic amplifiers. What we take in, we have ways to give it out once we ramped it up. 

I never fucked a woman and she didn’t squirt all over.

And I fucked quite a few in my day, and one lucky lady will be my first in over 10 years. 

Now, I should probably tell the fucking story, no one will buy, but if this falls into other hands….

The last wife put a curse on me. If I can’t find one that I want, and I won’t have a one night stand. 

She was a witch and well practiced in giving curses. The last husband, he died from cancer. One dude she made him drink himself to death.

Like this fucking bitch knew what she was doing. Pathological liar and all.

Just don’t damn me, fuck me.

This is a fictional story by Max J. Clayton.

Strategically twisted is something I never thought I would say about myself.  But if it works, it works.

How did I get so fucking twisted?

How many incubi are there?

That’s where it started, my mother.

Of course it has to mom, how fucking cliche is my fucking life. But, yeah it was that convo I had with mom when I was 17.

Now, I’m so glad my son isn’t one of us. I couldn’t bare it.

Yo son, since you’ve had sex do you feel any different?

So fucking fuckety fuck glad my son never had to have that convo with me.

Mom had to be drunk just to have the conversation.  Nothing like a drunk bitch. My mom is proud of being a bitch.

This would explain the looks I got from women for a few years after left home. I thought it was just a womanly thing to do. I had no idea most of them are not looking to get fucked.

Most women don’t like it.  In bed they like it, but in general conversation, don’t call a woman a bitch.

I used to run that through my head to get a handle on it.

Don’t call women bitches.

Even if they are.

That and Tabitha. We hung out in high school and junior high. Tabby was pure bitch and she knew it. It’s why I fell in love.

Everything goes back to my mom. Fuckety fuck fuck!

My drunk mother told me what I am. That I feed on sex. At 17, your mom tells you that you are a being that feeds on sex, are you fucking kidding me. 

I don’t know who had the worst end for that convo.  She got drunk just to have that discussion with me.  I shouldn’t be hard on her.

I read that and wished I hadn’t. 

I used to be the dude that could turn everything anyone said sexual. Not a skill I needed to develop.  It just happened. 

For me in the early years, before I learned, women were a smorgasbord for me.  I feed on sex.  All I could see was how to get them into bed, and I was good at it.

Thank God I got into spirituality.  When I looked at how I had treated women, I hung my head in shame. 

By 25, when Tina found me, I had learned so much.

Tina was a 35 yearly old broad. Even she would say she is a broad. I don’t know how many dudes got a beating of their life instead of Tina taking it.

Dudes always do the right thing. No dude ever let’s a woman get beat because she won’t shut her fucking mouth.

If Tina could just shut the fuck up and not go for the jugular with her fiery words, many dudes could’ve been saved.

It was no surprise that lesser men that married her, beat her ass. I get why lesser men beat her ass. I dated her for 4 years.

I never even raised a hand in anger to her. In fact we could go to bed pissed off at each other, and I would run two fingers down her back barely touching her skin. I did this to remind her she could sleep and had nothing to fear from me.

She had a way of getting into your soul and it was if she knew how much she could hurt you with her words. Bitch and a half. 

When Tina found me, she had been watching me all night and I was to be her one night stand. The only reason she called me was to find out if I was that good, or she was that drunk.

Appearantly sex can sustain a relationship for 4 years.

You ever notice how well one can make you orgasm, the more of their shit you can take?

I did. 

This is a fictional story told by Max J. Clayton

I miss Paul Harvey. These kids have no fuckin’ clue who Paul Harvey was, but I listened to him with my dad. My dad had the world’s greatest patience, especially dealing with my mom.

He got her a night shirt that said “Spoiled rotten bitch.”

He knew what he was dealing with. I learned watching the master when it came to patience.  The fact that I lived, my dad had the worlds greatest patience. 

When I  was 14, my mother had called me a son of a bitch so frequently, I thought I’d give it a try.

“Yeah mom, you’re right.”

She got a puzzled look and then it snapped into place and she went on doing something else.  I laughed to myself.  Who has this story about their mom?

I’ve haven’t met another.

After dad died, heart attack, followed by a stroke. I really can’t believe she didn’t kill him. The other 2 husbands died during sex.

Think about it, what’s a bitch?

A female dog that wants to be fucked.

Anyway, after dad died, I told my mom “Mom I tell people I use the term son of a bitch as a badge of honor to honor my mother.”

Fast reaction by mom “You damn well better.”

Then later that day “It’s thee bitch. Remember that son.”

I could never forget. Over 100 years and I still remember. 

Yeah, I was talking about dad. He’s the one that I saw him give mom roses every so often. Not because he did anything, he was a hopeless romantic, and he loved my mom purely and truly. 

I thought that’s where the patience came from, but instead he was 1/8 Cherokee.  His great grandmother walked the trail of tears as a Cherokee medicine women.

Cherokee have tremendous patience, but once it goes, run and don’t stop.  Even God can’t help you. God will tell you “Fuck that, you pissed off a Cherokee, you’re fucked.”

That’s the one I don’t get. Why God made the succubus and the Incubus?

Was God high?

I doubt it but when we look at our lineage, it seems that we were the devils children.  When Lucifer fell to earth with a third of the angels following, they had sex with human women.

The Nephilim is what we are. It runs through families. So it wasn’t God and it was God in a roundabout way. Had God not kicked Lucifer out, we wouldn’t be here.

It was mom’s family.

So her saying she was thee bitch, well she came by it honestly. 

And Incubi and succubi never have incest. It’s in our genetic code, down to the DNA. Now I wish the whole 18 thing could have passed through the DNA, but oh well.

When I was 13, I noticed some of the girls my age were getting tits and I really loved their asses. At 17 I had sex for the first time.  My power had been revealed. 

Before I had no clue what I was, after, I could feel my abilities for the first time.

It was fucking weird as shit. I don’t know how else to describe it.

One day I couldn’t do shit. The next day, I got stronger physically, I could tell what people were thinking just by looking at them, I could use the voice, just above a whisper and I  could get anyone to do what I said, and stuff.

It was at that time mom knew. Her senses could feel that I had tasted my power for the first time.  We had a talk.

No one ever is ready to hear that one is an Incubus, no one. Hearing it from your mother, that fucked me up.

Seriously fucked me up.

This is a story, a fictional story of my own creation. Here’s who is writing, Max J. Clayton

The longer wait, the greater the pleasure. At least that’s what I tell myself.  But fuck if I don’t get fucking laid, I’m going to go insane.

So what if I’ve had more wives than I can remember, 3, but this celibacy thing is fucking wrong.

The last wife, hell, we fucked 3 times a day, everyday. Even when she was on the rag. In fact our first date was her idea. “How about a pizza and a hotel room?”

She was on the rag. Our first sex and she was on the rag.

It was the fact she was highly orgasmic, and a squirter that had me. Didn’t care she was a pathological liar, but damn she could fuck.

And she swallowed, and it was her idea.

Then it was when we had finished one fuck session and she asked me “Are you going to get over hear and fuck me in ass.”

What could I do, it was my idea of having it all. I did things at her request I wouldn’t do to a farm animal. 

Yeah, but the lying is what got to me, but I still fantasize about the sex. I’m an Incubus, I have a high sex drive that I got from my mom, and she got it from her dad.

My grandfather was fucking my grandmother 3 times a day until he was 74 and she died cumming. Grandpa is now in his 6th wife and over 200 years old.

I come by it naturally.  I do love women. I love everything about them.  I’d let most any women suck my cock if she wanted to.

If she wanted to. It would have to be her idea.

That’s what I am.  I could never force a woman to do anything. But if she wants it, I can fuck like a Greek god or the devil himself, and all points in between.

I’m a Incubus. We crave sex and use sex to heal ourselves, and it makes us live a very long life. Mom is on her 3rd husband. The other died and came as they went.

I get the whole forcing yourself, but I just don’t like it. I tried it a few times, but it felt all wrong. 

Give a woman patience to want you, and the feeding is exquisite.  I like eating well, well I love eating pussy too. But feeding off their energy is amazing when they give it to you. If one has to force it, it will sustain, but when it’s given, oh my fucking God. 

Patience and lust is a hell of a combination.