I spoke once before of a christmast where by my mother and I were making cookies that turned to play that turned to sex. See prior posts in Male survivor section.

This Trigger is a memory of wraping a bow around my scrotum and full package, and laid myself under the tree to be found and unwrapped by my parents. We had no money for gifts at all that year. So My gift to them was myself. My gift from them was receiving blow job from my dad as foreplay to the full thing with my mom.

Because this was still during the time that I thought I was called by God and my father to do this work/provide this service to my family.

Of course there was the typical physical joy of sexual moments. The day I awoke from this fog. This particular memory has haunted since. My reaction is often first a smile and a tickle following quickly by my mind chastising me for the vile act. Getting to that place where I accept that I was no wrong then, and that only the one who taught me to love this way was wrong, takes me a few cycles of Joy/Guilt/conviction before I wise up. I'm in the cycles now.

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nocona