What hurts the most?
The pain of my body being riped open?
The pain of my soul being riped apart?
What sickens me the most?
The taste of him left in my mouth?
The times I longed to taste him?
What scraces me the most?
The sound of your car?
The thought of another beating?
Who's fault is it?
God's for leaving me?
Mine for having "dreamy blue eyes"?
What shames me the most?
The secert I carry?
The erections I've gotten when it happens?
What makes me feel guilty?
The times I asked him too?
The times he told me it was what I wanted?
What pisses me off the most?
The fact that I love him?
The fact that I hate him?
What embarasses me the most?
The girls underwear you make me wear for you?
The times you made me go to school in them?
Why do I feel so lonely?
Is it becouse you told me noone but you ever loved me?
Is it becous I believe that you are the only person to love me?

So many questions.
Only one answer.
YES!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Ok I dont write to much and just wanted to say this...thanks for letting me rant a bit......
Joker.

beautiful.
loved it.
Im torn too, and sometimes I feel that I asked for it, or deserved it, or I was cute enough to be raped.

Thanks for writing this.

rax.

Hate to say it but I can empathize with this. Things got rough when I reached 17,18. By then I knew what mom wanted. Dad & my sister would leave the house. Mom would call out "Ricky,I just took a shower but I forgot to get a fresh towel. Bring me one from the laundryroom". I'd knock on her door,holding the towel. No response. I'd open her bedroom door. She's there sitting totally naked on the bed,sheets pulled back. Just sitting there looking at me strangely. I was supposed to enter the room,engage in sexual intercourse with her. After this had gone on for some time I asked myself "Well,should I? That's what mom wants. If I do this we can be a family again". I tried. I tried conceptualizing mom & me. Tried masturbating to the thought. Did'nt work. At the last moment her face would pop up and I could'nt cum. I could fantasize other women. Pretend they and I were mom & son. But not the real thing. I hated myself for that. Considered myself a failure. I turned 56 a few days ago. Mom died in 1994. I can masturbate now without her face popping into my consciousness. It's a victory. Fact is,I don't even remember what she looked like now. Burn in Hell,bitch.