First, sorry I forgot to mark part 1 with a trigger warning!!
My Story, Part 2 (Long, maybe too long, and TRIGGERS)
I forgot to mention that my dad had just been transfered to Omaha only a few months before my mom got sick. I remember how much she didn't want to move. She really didn't like it when we moved to St. Louis, it was the furthest she had ever lived away from her parents and 6 brothers and sisters so Omaha was REALLY too far. She didn't like it before we went, and she didn't like it when we got there.
While all of my touching up to this point had involved only boys with the one exception already mentioned, I did not feel that I was attracted to them in any special way. I was just as curious about touching girls as I was boys, but of course that kind of opportunity was not available. "Hey, can Vikki sleep over this Friday?" Was not a question that could be asked. So I settled for my friends.
It was around the time of my mothers death that I believe my father stopped abusing me. I can only guess, that because I was starting to mature, I was not as desireable to him any more? I had started to grow body hair and maybe that wasn't what turned him on? I do believe though, that the abuse of my younger brother continued for some time after mine ended. We have never discussed anything about our past, we really rarely have any contact at all, but thats a much later part of the story.
The friends and the sleepovers continued for a couple more years. I remember I was about 15 when Penny first started to get friendly with me. She was a knock out! I mean really, she was one of the hottest girls at school, long blond hair, that perfect all over tan skin, rarely wore make up and didn't need to, and that smile, man she could melt any guys heart with it. I thought she was the sweetest thing on the earth. I would have never approached her, God man, she was way to good for me, hell, I thought she didn't even know who I was. Anyway, she started talking to me in the hallways at school, I remember I was so shy, didn't know what to say and I'm sure I turned red when ever I saw she was coming.
After the new attention, and because she must have gotten tired to touch them. What was I looking for in it? Granted, once I had matured to the point of having an orgasm, it was an added benifit to the touching, but it wasn't what drove me to do it, and I of waiting on me, she asked me out. I was in shock, really in shock. I was also scared to death! What was I going to do, I didn't know anything about girls, or sex really, and she had been out with some of the coolest guy in the school, so I knew she had "experience". Of course I said yes, though I questioned why as Friday night got closer.
We went out, to the movies, I can still remember. We saw Walking Tall, with Joe Don Baker, I know, I'm old, but hey, it sure wasn't a "chick flick". As scared as I was, it went pretty well.
Her mom dropped us off at the mall, and picked us up later, and took me home. There was never any chance for "sex" to happen. I can still feel how scared of it I was. I think back now to my Grandmother telling me how BAD sex was. How it was evil, how the only purpose it had was to create children and it was not intended for pleasure. Hell, to hear her tell it, sex without marriage was worse than murder in God's eyes. Somehow, that message really got through to me as far as girls were concerned. I guess I didn't think of my touching as sex, strange now that I ponder that.
Once I learned about what happened when I got aroused, and did some rubbing, it became an obsession for me. I would masturbate several times a day. If I became aroused in class, I would
Position myself so that I could rub one off right there in my pants, then I would worry that someone would be able to smell the sex on me for the rest of the day, but it never stopped me.
I can remember that I believed that if I really had sex with a girl, that I would be found out. I don't know exactly how that could have happened, and it probably relates somehow to my subconscience mind knowing that my father was touching me there, and that he would know if I had done something with a girl, like maybe it would turn red for a while, or something. Sounds stupid now, but that is what was in my head back then.
I continued to date Penny for another year or so. I gave her my class ring, we were going steady, talked about getting married and being together for the rest of our lives. I guess after that year and a half, without me ever trying to make a move to have sex with her, she got tired or bored, or both, and she fucked on of my best friends, and told me about it, as her way of breaking up with me. That ended my first case of puppy love, or infatuation, or what ever you want to call it. I was devistated. That is one of the only times in my life that I really thought about doing myself in. As I think back now, I think the motivation for it was to really hurt her, to leave a note saying it was all her fault. At times, I'm glad I never had the nerve to go through with it, other times, I wish I had.
While she and I dated, I pretty much did away with the sleepovers. I had a "girlfriend" and the rest of my buddies didn't, so we kind of went our own way for that year and a half. I don't remember missing the touching, but then Penny and I were always making out, but only up to the point where it became obvious that things were moving a little too far for my safe zone and I would back off. It's funny to me now, she never asked me what was wrong, or why I stopped, or anything, no questions at all. Weird.
After we broke up, I started reconnecting with my buddies again. My brother and I had become friends with Curt and Kevin, from just up the street. Curt was a year younger than me, and kevin a Year younger than my brother. We became really good friends. Another kid moved in the neighborhood about this time, his name was Jon. He was Korean, and was the first friend I ever had that was from another race or culture. Even thought I went to a High School with over 1400 students, there were only two black people, and they were brother and sister, and I don't remember any other race in High School but all the white kids, and the two black ones. Not that that really matters, just something that came to mind as I write this.
While I don't remember thinking that my touching my friends, was a sexual thing, I suppose it really was. I think it strange now, that I never questioned why I wanted don't know what did. I just know that I felt that it was something I needed to do, without any concern as to why.
I'm about 17 now, and the sleepovers had become few and far between. Jon's mom was going out of town one weekend, and asked if he could stay with us til she got back on Sunday. I asked, and it was ok. I had never really wanted to sleepover with Jon. Not sure why, in fact, I don't know what criteria I used for my selection of which friends I wanted to and which friends I didn't. Another strange thing to ponder as I recall all this crap. Anyway, he came over Friday evening, we met up with Curt, Kevin, Ronnie, Ricky, Roger, and Raymond and played a good couple hours of sandlot football. (This was what we enjoyed most, good old full contact, no pads, tackle football). After, we went for soda's, and everyone went home. Jon and I returned to my house, played some pool, listened to some music, just normal stuff, and then we went to bed.
As was custom, we slept on the sofa sleeper downstairs. I didn't really have a strong want to touch him, and fell asleep pretty quickly. I woke up sometime in the night, and even though there was no strong desire, I decided to check him out anyway. As I gently slid my hand over to his private parts, inching ever so slowly towards my target, what I found made me freeze. He was as hard as a rock, I mean really boned up. With just the tips of my fingers touching him, I was as frozen as a statue, for how long I can't really say, it seemed like several minutes, but in reality, was probably nowhere near that long. Then I felt his hand as he reached over, and put it on my
very well aroused organ. I can still feel the panic this caused in me! I had so many feelings rush through me I couldn't sort through them fast enough. I just lay there, frozen, my mind drowning in a flood of feelings. Then, I felt his other hand, grab my hand that was just barely touching him, and he picked my hand up and placed it directly on his organ, and I felt him squeezing mine as he did. I knew that I was caught, and I didn't know what to do now, so I just laid there, pretending to be asleep, and just wishing that this wasn't happening. He was rubbing, and squeezing me with one hand, and with the other, he was moving my hand around on himself at the same time. I just played dead. I wanted to just vanish. I felt it when he came, and even though it caused me to feel a little sick to my stomach, as it became very obvious to me what was happening, I too released in my underware just after he did. I tried to pull my hand off of him, but he held it there, still rubbing, and he slid his hand inside my underware. As soon as his skin touched mine, I jerked my hand away and rolled over on my side with my back to him, still not giving any indication I was awake, I'm sure he knew I was though. As I lay there, feeling sick, and confused, and really terrified, he moved in closer to me, pressing his front against my back, and using the top of his foot, to rub the bottom of mine. I tried to move further away, but ran out of bed and couldn't go any further. He kept scooting closer as I tried to move away, and neither of us said a word.
I don't remember how long it took me to fall asleep again, an hour, maybe two or more?
But I did finally fall back asleep. I remember how uncomfortable it was when I woke up the next morning. I didn't know what to do, I didn't want to face him, I didn't want to have to talk about what happened. I didn't want him to try to talk about it. I just laid there, waiting for him to get up. Eventually he did, and when he went to the bathroom, I jumped up, changed my underware, and put my clothes on, in record time I might add. When he came back into the family room, I didn't even want to look at him. I think he felt much the same and both of us avoided eye contact for most of the day. By the afternoon, when we met up again for football, it was as if nothing had ever happened. We slept on the sleeper again Saturday night, and this time, I slept. I didn't wake up. I don't know if he woke up, or if he tried to do anything agian or not.
Our friendship grew rather distant after that, he quit showing up for the football games, and as far as I know, neither of us ever spoke to anyone else about that night. This is the first time the words have escaped my head, and that was over 33 years ago.
From that night on, I swore that I would NEVER have another sleepover again. I never did.
I was so worried that he might tell someone, and that he, and I too, would be made fun of forever as the "gay ones". Though I had wondered if touching my friends meant that I was gay, I didn't think that it did, and after the way I felt that night, I pretty much convinced myself that I was not gay, if I was, I would have reacted differently to our "experiment".
OK, now I'm 17 years old. I have had a serious girlfriend, that I was too afraid to have sex with. I'm into feeling my friends up while they sleep every chance I get, yet when one of them ended up NOT being asleep, the contact made me feel ill, so now what was I to do? I'm not really into boys, and I'm terrified of sex with the girls, that is when I really began to think that I didn't belong anywhere, with anyone. Who could possibly want me? What good was I to anyone, Hell, what good was I to myself. The answer I came up with was, I was no good to myself or anyone else, and I believed that I never would be.
Sorry this is so long, much of what I'm writing, is just flowing from my head as I go, it feels weird to just let my mind go. It feels like there is so much crap in there, that has been bursting at the seams to get out, but has been very well secured in my screwed up mind, for my entire life.
I have to say though, that after I posted part 1 last night, I had a sensation of freedom, and relief, that I don't ever recall feeling before. I didn't believe that doing this would be of much help, but must admit to being surprised at how much different I felt having done so.
That's enough for now, thanks to anyone reading all this, as hard as it was to start, now I find myself having to make myself take a break from it for now. As I said in part one, I am open to anything, anyone might have to say about what I've written. Since repliess are not allowed, you can send me a PM with your thoughts, your input, or any suggestions that might help me in this long hard road to a better life ahead. Even if what you have to say is not good, or supportive, I welcome all PM's good or bad, I want to hear anything you might have to say.
Best wishes and warmest regards,
I'm here for a reason. Failure is not an option.