Warning: strong graphic sexual content, depiction of child abuse, depiction of substance abuse.
So here's my story.
I was born in 1986 in Ontario, Canada to a 17 year old mother who worked as a stripper at a local bar. She had very little money, and the money that she did get often went to her cocaine addiction. When I was 2 years old she gave birth to my little brother (We'll name him Eric) (with a different man). The three of us moved around a lot. I can't remember exactly where but I do remember that it was very often. I was about 4 or 5 years old when she met a man named Brian. Brian was in his mid-50's and at this point my mother was in her early-20's. I have nothing against people who have spouces of age difference (my wife is 19 years older than I am, so trust me, I don't care). But my mother (We'll name her Demi) was not with Brian because she loved him. She was with him because he could furthur support her drug addiction and well, my little brother and I. Well, you see, my mother being a stripper and all, she had to work some pretty late hours at the bar, therefore she left Brian alone with Eric and I. The abuse started pretty instantly. Brian would first sneak into our rooms at night and fondle both my brother and I while we were sleeping. It than became more casual to him and he would do it while we were awake. He then forced my brother and I to touch each other. If this doesn't sound bad enough my mother never believed our disclosure of abuse.
We were eventually moved away from my mother because of her addiction and into foster care. CAS gained knowledge that my brother and I had been fondleing each other and instantly put the blame on me since I was a year and half older and in their stupid fucking heads "the more responsible one that should have known better". Our first two foster homes were particularily bad ones and the parents would keep my brother and I locked in our room for days on end, where yes, we fondled each other willingly. At that age that's all we knew.
To make an extremely long story short they eventually put me into group homes because of this. I was emotionally abused by the staff in these homes and this went on for almost 6 years. When I turned 16 I fought my way out of the system and moved in with a room mate.
*Triggers in following paragraph*
When I was 13 (I had run away from one of the group homes I lived in) the friend I was with (we'll name her Buffy)and I were approached by a man in his mid-40's(His real name is Mike). Buffy explained to him that he we had no place to go and he offered us to come back to his apartment and that he would "take care of us". Being desparate and at that age not really knowing the risks of doing something like that we went. Buffy fell asleep in his bed while he stayed up to talk to me. He asked me if I needed my clothes washed since I was pretty dirty. I told him I did and he got me to change into his house robe. I was sitting in his arm-chair and he got in between my legs and hugged me. I was weirded out, but didn't react. I was also sexually aroused-like really bad. I was hard before he even opended up the robe. He looked down at my erection and then put his mouth over my dick and started to go up and down. He did this for about 15 seconds and then stopped. I just sat their extremely aroused and extremely scared. I didn't know what to do from there. He proceeded to do this several times over the period of the following week. He never brought me to an orgasim, but I did jerk-off in front of him and came. I was caught by the police and sent back to group homes but the incidents stuck with me for years to come. I masturabted relentlessly thinking about the incident because I was so aroused by it. It was only when I was about 18 or 19 when I realized what he had done was indeed absolutely disgusting. I went back to see him when I was 16 and then again when I was 20 to confront him about it. Each time I went their was never any confrontation and he sweet talked his way each time into performing on me again. One particular time was extremely disturbing was when I was 16 when I went to see him I actually jerked off and just before I came he put his mouth over my dick and swallowed the cum. I knew by the time I was an adult that all of this was terribly wrong.
To this day I can not face him and tell him what he did was wrong. I don't have the balls to report him to the police plus they would only say that I wanted it anyway. I can also not talk to Eric about what happened when were kids. He likes to act like that part of his life never happened.
There was also one additional incident when I was 7 where this fat, disgusting man fondled me in a change-room at a swimming pool. That incident hasn't affected me as badly, maybe because it was only once-- I dunno. With Brian and Mike they had repeatedly mollested me. There was also one more additional incident when I was 20(just a few months ago in fact where I was assaulted coming home from the video store late at night). This incident is a bad one for me-- probably because out of all of them I allowed this one to happen the most).
To this day, married, I'm confussed about a lof of things. I often see myself as an object for old men to play with. I am constantly told by people (good people) that I'm attractive yet I look in the mirror and feel sick to my stomach. I feel ugly and dispensable. I feel like a waste to the world. Being sexually mollested has affected my marriage, the relationship with my brother, my level of motivation to suceed financially.
I want to be set free. I want to take a pill and forget what ever happened to me. But I can't. Not a day goes by, not even one where I don't think of one of my abusers.
Edited by walkingsouth (07/30/07 10:24 PM)