Harry Art - Chapter 3

Harry rounded the corner as the rays of the sun pierced his eyes like famous porn stars pierce the holes of their prey. He recoiled slightly, but carried on forward. The street was long, and every pavement tile was a treasure cove to his destination, the lake. He walked with a swagger in his foot and a smile on his face. He danced with every step, often with passing pedestrians staring at him in a horrified and deadened manner. The smile radiating on his face was joy filled in his mind, but to others it was reminiscent of a trucker right before he picks up a prostitute. Before long Harry had reached the lake; it was a body of water surrounded by trees, and some grass. He had never seen anything so invigorating. Turning to his side he saw an old man on a bench reading a book.

"I had been waiting till I had sex before I came here," Harry stated boldly at the older gentlemen as he gazed out over the lake. The old man looked up from his book, those horn rimmed glasses twinkling in the sunlight as he checked frantically around the bench that he was perched upon. He began breathing heavily while staring at Harry.

"Son, if you came on this bench I will beat you so hard," The older man remarked darkly. Harry was confused as the older man stared at him for an answer.

"No, I had sex elsewhere," he simply replied, the whine in his voice cut through even the most awkward of silences.

"Well it seems to me that you may need to purify your soul," the old man said with a judgemental look on his face.

Harry played with his pencil moustache, digesting the information he had received. He turned on his heels and walked off towards the lake. He began unzipping his horrifyingly dirty work jacket and once he reached the edge, he threw it into the quite lovely body of water. A man fishing stared at him in disgust as the fluids from that infamous bathroom floor mixed with it.
"It's ok, I just had sex, I'm purifying myself!" Harry screamed at the top of his lungs while the remnants of someone's mistimed period mixed with the playground of the fish. As the clouds cleared, a hut which sat just behind a section of trees across the lake came into view. The words 'Original Witch Doctor' were written above it. Harry raised his arms up in joy, the BO which had sunk through the seams of his quite frankly repulsive standard white T Shirt escaped into the air, decimating the surrounding environment. He took off like a dart towards the location.

It hadn't taken long but he had reached it; his sanctuary, his answer, his sanity. Harry raised his bony, vaginal juice covered knuckles and crashed them against the wooden door. As quick as a flash the heavy door swung inwards and standing in the opening was a brown lady. She was darker than Harry's light tan. She smiled simply.
"Harry?" She asked. Harry was shocked, his heart beat through his chest, even more so than when he had had sex. All across her face were florescent blue markings, she looked like something from 'Tron'. She noticed the look of shock on his face and beckoned him in. Without a word, that lanky freak walked through the door after her. They walked through the lounge to a lovely cream sofa just on the other side of the heavily wood based aesthetic. She sat on one side and he sat on another.
"I need to-" Harry began before being cut off.
"You've just had sex, you need to purify your soul," she simply noted. Harry nodded and gulped heavily, a slight quantity of mini sick entered his mouth, but he swallowed it back down.
"I am Alanasi, a brown Witch Doctor from South Shields," she noted holding out her hand.
"I am Harry Art, you don't need to know much more," Harry replied sternly refusing to shake her hand. Alanasi was wearing only a pink silk robe, she maintained eye contact as she slipped her right shoulder out to reveal a burn upon the skin. Harry began to sweat once again, his chest showing through the white t shirt.

Harry's hands shook as he moved towards Alanasi. She turned away slightly to tease him.
"You see, without the security of marriage, one finds the devil within themselves when they have sex. I will exorcise you, Harry, I will exorcise you," she said passionately looking deeply into his eyes. Harry became erect and she knew it straight away. He pushed his clammy hand against her other shoulder, and slowly the robe fell down. She smiled and jumped on him pushing him backwards. Her tongue graced Harry's dirty neck from bottom to top, he shivered in delight while she shivered in disgust as her face scrunched up at the bitter taste of his skin. Harry took his soaked T Shirt off revealing his all too familiar skinny frame. Alanasi stood up and allowed Harry to move up on the couch. He looked up just at the right moment; her robe was now completely off and lying in a neat pile beside her. She was stood only in her jet black underwear. Harry's eyes bulged; once you got over the burns, her skin was the smoothest he had ever seen. He unzipped his trousers and threw them violently across the room. She placed her hands up her back slowly and unclipped her bra. She reached over seductively picking up a pot of florescent blue body paint and began drawing a symbol on her stomach. Harry was now completely naked, his white underwear complete with dark brown skid marks was the last to come off. Alanasi moved towards him seductively with the body paint.

"Let's get started," she breathed.

Update: 2014

Hello all,

Due to numerous death threats from some of my readership about the recent lack of activity, I have made a return to my erotica. I'm not entirely sure how so many of you got my work email address, but I must say that sending the content which you have to me over the past months has been out of line. Let it be said that I'm back because I want to be, and not because I fear for my, or my family's safety. There's a big reason why I haven't posted for such a long time. In my last post I noted my recent trouble with Karen and the legal proceedings she put against me. This legal battle has heated up quite immeasurably and only a few weeks ago we settled. We settled that I wouldn't come within fifty feet of her, her property or (as she puts it) her son, Darren. I've felt a great deal of loss over this, this witch has taken away my son, but it's not over, it's not over just yet. We've got rebuttal, and even though Darren wants nothing to do with me, he will still have a loving father in his life. So fuck you Karen! Fuck you straight back to the hell spawn you came from, you Devil-Bitch!

I have also found myself in a position of power at work as of late. With the erotica that I had begun writing I felt an amazing sense of power entwined within myself. Though it was originally written as a heavily politically loaded statement, this erotica appears to have worked wonders in my life. I suddenly gained confidence which I never had before. For instance, people at the water cooler used to scrunch up their cups and throw them at me while I sat at my desk trying to fill out my tax forms during my lunch break. Now, since the erotica, people look on at me with apathy and cease to throw things or show any acts of aggression towards me. To be fair, in a twist of fate I found a way of making our company work 11% more efficiently by dropping six people off of our team. My manager and lead of department picked a few of those people which would throw things at me to be let go. Now they have no livelihood and are left as feral(s) to pick from the dregs off society. I was also promoted due to my attitude change, I now work in a different department where I analyse loans. It's been three months and I feel that I'm more successful here.

Indeed, 2014 has been plagued with legal battles and deep seated rage amongst my son and Karen, but it has thus far been highly successful in the world of work for me. Now that I'm posting again, I guess that means that you can expect some more chapters of Harry Art's journey, and you would be right in believing that. Expect more, the point of this post has been to show you that I'm not going to lie down and take it any more; I aim for a much more violent, aggressive, in your face, and twisted journey to be revealed within Harry Art himself. So be sure to prepare yourself for ache, pain, euphoria, and an over riding sense of nostalgia. Also, if you keep sending me death threats I will be forced to take legal action.

All the best,

Peter

Harry Art - Chapter 2

"Why do you have to do that?" A voice cried from over the room. It was Grace, one of the new interns in the building.
"Do what?" Harry asked in an innocent manner, he rubbed his pencil moustache and looked towards the machines. She came storming towards him.
"You know full well what you just did, you psychotic fuck!" Grace shouted. Grace stood at five ten but held great power in her body. She was built like a body builder and embraced that form of identity. The dark work shirt held her muscles at bay but they bulged as she spoke. Her face was red and Harry stared at several veins protruding from her neck. He looked at her silently for a moment before walking away.
"W-where are you going? I'm talking to you-" Grace shouted, following Harry further into the work floor and towards the toilets.
"Grace..." Harry cut her off, his whiny voice tore straight through her words. "Get off the roids and go and do some actual work or I'll have you sent back to the job centre, you hulking freak," Harry was blunt and Grace was dumbfounded. Never before had anyone stood up to her, most were intimidated by her very presence. She placed her hand on Harry's slight frame and grazed it across his dark shirt. She leaned in further and he did not protest her advance. He smelt like shit and she recoiled slightly. Her face was perplexed, her mind screamed no, but her body screamed yes. Harry felt the blood filling his overused prick and placed his hand by it to feel it. Grace looked into Harry's deep brown dead eyes and in that instant knew what was going through his head. She moved her right hand off of his chest and grazed it slowly down his dark shirt and towards his grainy work trousers. As her hand slid down she cupped an outline of penis. She raised her eyebrows and Harry began to profusely sweat.

They were stood in the middle of a work room and many around them clocked what was happening but nobody did anything. They all sheepishly placed their heads down and continued printing papers. They were both blind and deaf to the sexually charged moment happening. Grace placed Harry's bony clammy hand in hers and pulled him towards the toilets. Her tug nearly yanked his arm out of his socket but she didn't care and neither did he. She threw Harry into a stall, it was dirt, covered in piss, shit and blood but neither of them cared, how could they. Grace ripped open her shirt like the Hulk when he transforms from Bruce Banner. In contrast, Harry patiently took off his clothes carefully placing them on the top ridge of the stall. Grace pushed Harry down onto the horrific dirty toilet. He felt the fluids brash against his skin but he didn't care. His heart leaped inside his chest and he grazed his new sex fiend's muscle filled leg. It was rock solid but she responded well to his advances. Harry was now fully erect and like a horse during mating season he launched forward targeting Grace's cavern. All four inches of his meat sword headed towards her but Grace stepped back slightly placing it in her hand. She knew that in one tight squeeze she could ruin Harry's manhood and that sense of power turned her on even more. She began squeezing tightly and Harry's eyes widened as the pain hit his stomach.
"Aghh, what are you doing," He winced,
"Playing a game, do you like to gamble?" She replied, her eyes locked into his as the shade of green was all he could see. Her stale coffee breath hit his face and the warmness unconsciously pushed him closer towards her. She loosened her grip and began frantically rubbing as if she was going for a prize.
"Friction burn!" He shouted as she loosened her grip. Harry never thought it'd be like this, he was not a man of emotional depth but in that moment a wealth of relief greeted him. He placed his hands on her shoulders and she followed his lead and lay down on the blood stained cold tiles of the bathroom from hell. She placed her legs up and rested them on Harry's skinny frame. He knelt down and stabbed her with his pork sword and entered the lobby of her body. His face filled with a sense of glee which quickly diminished as he failed to touch the sides; she was wide.
"What?" He asked in a perplexed manner. She smiled and turned around.
"Don't worry, I haven't shat in four days," Grace noted to put Harry at rest. Harry nodded and breached the back door. Much better he thought.

Outside all that could be heard was the dull sound of paper being printed with the occasional crash coming from the toilet. It sounded like somebody had unleashed a rabid kestrel into the building. Harry balled his fist up and placed it in Grace's hole. He had filled her up and now rhythmically thrust and punched. She moaned in glee as he locked onto her emotional dexterity. Minutes felt like hours and Harry pulled out and came up her back. He breathed heavily and she smiled.
"Feel like a man now?" She asked,
"Fuck yes," He replied with joy on his face. They spent minutes cleaning up and gradually left the toilet quietly after one another.
"Hey everyone!" Harry shouted to the workers on the factory floor. He turned the machines off momentarily causing massive destruction.
"I just had sex!" He screamed at the top of his lungs. Everybody stood in shock at his turning off of the machines, their minds so full of the ramifications of halting printing that they did not regard what he was saying.
"Nothing better will happen here today, I'm going to the lake," And with that the mysterious Harry Art left his workplace without another word. Though the joy would be short lived, and Harry was not to know what would lie just around the corner.

Hasn't it just been a while?

Hello all,

I'm sorry that it's been so long since I last made a post. Work has been piling up recently as a massive merger between our Reading office and the Leeds office has taken a lot of work to make happen. This has kept me very busy over the last four months or so. In terms of my life; Darren's and my relationship has gone from bad to worse after he blamed me for the death of his cat. I managed to get back into contact with him in late August, and in October when he went away with a few friends he left me to care for his cat, Rashad. About two or three days into his holiday away in the Maldives I took Rashad out for a walk as one does with a pet. He ran out into the road and was unfortunately struck my a Marks and Spencer lorry speeding down towards the Dover sort of area. He didn't even stop. I made a police report but nothing came of it. When Darren got back he blamed me entirely for Rashad's death. My explanations were futile and he went as far as to throw a chair at me. We haven't spoken since.

As I noted above, work has been heavy and we've seen the merger of our Reading office and Leeds office over the last few months. This has meant a continued struggle for my place in the company as I fight for my position. With more limited spaces my job has come ever more at risk. Though, I must note that I have found solace in a book club that I have created. We meet every Wednesday at seven at my house and we tend to read some great works. We read Jane Austin's zombie novel recently and it went down like a treat. We're hoping to move on towards erotica, they don't know about my authorship but I will reveal it soon enough.Though on top of stress at work, I've been in and out of court recently as well. These legal proceedings look to go on for a while. Karen is trying to file an order against me to restrict my movements. This came after I made an attempt to win her back by burning a love filled message onto her front lawn. She was less than pleased. Hopefully as this all blows over I'll be able to write some more erotica.

You'll see that I've deleted my chapter 2 of the Harry Art story. Some fans were really moved by the content and have written to me to question me over my choice. But I stand by it, chapter two was a weak chapter of a potentially great series. It deserves my love and attention and as such will be re-written at a later date. To my fans that have stood by me during these months I thank you greatly. As repayment I will grace you with valuable and wonderful content. Until then I needed to check in and let you all know what's been happening with me recently.

Or as they say in Norway: Jeg kommer snart tilbake, gir deg fiskestanga og jeg skal bringe isen.

Peter.

Q&A Saturday

So overnight my popularity from this chapter has excelled all my expectations, particularly in Norway. A few of my devoted fans have asked me questions so I thought that I'd hold a Q&A to answer some curiosity for you guys.

Of all the fiction that you could write, such as children's books and murder mysteries, why did you choose to pick erotica?

This is a very good question and one that my trusted circle of colleagues asked a lot when I revealed to them that I had decided to start writing erotica. A lot of the reason is the recent success of erotica in society today, I've found that it sells well especially amongst middle class housewives. Why sit on the train with A Christmas Carol when you could be reading about Harry Art? Also I haven't ruled out merging the two topics of children's books and erotica together and writing some children's erotica.

Where do you plan on going from here in telling the story of Harry Art?

I don't want to reveal a lot of my future plans but one of my main aims is to breach a lot of the untapped space between genres. For example, I might wish to work my way into a dramatic erotica which merges with some dark comedy. The story of Harry Art after all is a great tragedy. I aim to make my stories as close to real life as possible in making them unsettling to the reader.

Who inspired the character of Harry Art?

The character of Harry Art is based on the man that my ex partner ran away with. There are many similarities between the two such as the lack of personal hygiene and the tragic life circumstances. Though I like to think that Harry Art represents the religiously repressed man of today, those who have become the subjects of terror and the fear of god. The character of Harry Art is largely a metaphor for the tragic East/West divide in America.

Do you yourself have a sexual paraphilia?

In the sense that I had sex before marriage I guess that I do. I let my demons take a hold of me and possess me. I bred with my partner and created a son. Then she left me. I learnt then the merits of abstinence. My son does not love me because I let my demons take ahold. I guess in a sense Harry Art is a little like us all in that way. The way we're all becoming possessed by sexual desire from time to time and let our frustrations take ahold of us. Next time you read his story, question how much alike to him that you are.

Thank you very much for your questions! I will do another Q&A when there are more questions. Thank you for reading!

Harry Art - Chapter 1

Harry Art was a tall man standing at around six foot two with a wafer thin pencil moustache. His tanned skin made him look Mexican but he was not Mexican, he was English. He looked on over London's famous Thames river sipping a cup of coffee. He pictured a black and white scene, a little like a French Existential Film, others in the cafe turned and looked at him for a second every now and again. His dorky hair cut flustered in the wind. He had never been laid, he was forty two years old. The sexual frustration was beginning to boil over and he was in himself becoming much more aggressive. He smashed down the cup abruptly before setting his eyes on a young lady of the busty variety. He wiped his paper thin moustache.
"You!" He bellowed so loudly that the entire riverside could hear him.
"W-What?" She questioned with fear in her voice.
"Would you like to join me for dinner later on today?" He asked, his face red and veins bulging.
"I'm fourteen," She replied. "This is my mum." Harry looked on for a moment before nodding his head in defeat. He walked past them. The ever so careful smell of their skin greeted his nose. He lurched down in a quick and aggressive motion.
"That is the most unmistakable scent of perfume I have ever had the pleasure of smelling." His tone had switched from aggressive to sincere in a matter of seconds. The females looked on and Harry after ten seconds of looming walked off into the distance. The clouds covered the sun like a parent covers pornography from their child. The air became cooler and Harry felt more comfortable for it. The sun always made him slightly gassy as it is. He carried on his way home, his trench coat flapping in the wind as his tie swayed side to side dancing with the Angels that delivered such a chorus.

He finally reached his house. He walked past his mum who was busy making some kind of plate of food. She was Mexican, he had never met his Dad but he was believed to be of a more Puerto Rican decent. Harry was happy with his heritage, he felt rather cultured. He closed his bedroom door and sat in his torn and decaying computer chair. His room was only small and the only other items were a bed, a wardrobe and a drawer. Everything was so crunched together. He loaded his favourite pornography up and started violently masturbating. He played a selection of death metal tracks in the background. After a long session he breathed tightly, licked his hands clean and pulled up his trousers. It was time for dinner. All Harry could think about was sex, he was plagued by images of sex time and time again. He closed his eyes, sex, he opened his eyes and for a moment the dull reality of life would feature followed swiftly by delusions of sex. It was clear what had happened. Harry had become possessed by a demon.

He lightly picked a taco up and devoured it. Conversation with his mother had dried up about five years ago.
"Harry when are you going to move out?" His mother asked. She'd been waiting all day to ask this question. "You're forty three years old."
"This is delicious," Harry answered blatantly ignoring his mothers question. She looked down at her food in disappointment. It was a sunday, Harry finished his dinner, pushed the dishes off of the table onto the floor for no reason and then went to his bedroom and masturbated once more. He went and got a drink of coke and then decided to fall asleep. The alarm blared awakening him at 5:30 in the morning, Harry had a job as a man who printed newspapers. He was in charge of the machines that made them go out in the morning. His paper was 'The Independent'. He liked his job, he spent most of it on sex lines, he didn't have to pay for his phone calls here. He was a talented newspaper printer so it would be hard for him to get sacked.
"So what are you wearing?" Harry asked rubbing his semi erect pork stick through his tweed trousers.
"A pink laced corset." A moaning female voice answered abruptly.
"And what do you look like?" He breathed.
"Blonde curled hair, blue eyes, plush rose tinted cheeks," She growled, she knew he was getting into it.
"Do you like where thongs and stuff?" He asked.
"Not at the moment I'm not." She said seductively.
"An granny panties," He came down the phone and hung up almost instantly. He got up as if nothing had happened and carried on with his work. His co-workers looked on in disgust.

An Introduction

Hello everyone, I am Peter Hart a 37 year old investments banker from Reading in the United Kingdom. I have recently grown tired of my 9-5 routine of work. Sometimes the overtime is unbearable and I have a lot of trouble following simple tasks. There have been countless times that I have nearly been sacked from my work in banking so I feel that now is a better time than any to pursue my dream of becoming a writer. My stories can be described as a dark and dangerous leap into the human mind. Many have commented on my writing skills being likened to that of Jane Austin's or even Oscar Wilde's. They are strictly adult, but in todays market place I see no reason that my works cannot become a serious part of our identity and culture.

Many ask me what I hope to achieve with my writing. The answer is simple; I wish to bring us altogether as one, to brash out these Western/Eastern tensions and unite us all with the love of language.

"Words are limitless in the ability of binding us together." - Ghandi

For many of these reasons much of my writing can be understood as political and sometimes even religious.

I am currently unmarried, but I have a teenage son called Darren that won't return my calls. He is illegitimate and we don't see eye to eye on many matters. His Liberal mentality severely contrasts greatly with my Neo-Conservative outlook on life. As two strongly minded individuals this causes much friction. He is the product of my only serious relationship to date. I went out with a lady known as Karen. We got serious so I planted my seed in her. Eventually she decided that she preferred a man in her legal firm and they are now married. She never told me if Darren is actually my son but a lot of the time I look into his eyes and I just see it. 

Anyway, thank you for reading. i hope to bring you much joy from my works.