I came from an abusive household. My father physically attacked my mother once a week, and hit or kicked one of us kids once a week, and yelled in frightening rage at least three times a week.
Although I do not remember, my brother suggests we were abused when we were much younger. What I do remember is my underwear on my head when my mother's friend, the photographer took pictures. I guess I was 7.
When I was 10 my brother lead us in a game of horses. We, my older brother, my younger brother and myself would get naked. We would run around on our hands and knees and come up to a couch. We would lean against the couch and my older brother would mount us. One day he had my little brother turn over on his back and my older brother mounted him. After a while he ejaculated on his stomach. It is then that I understood when he mounted us, he was masturbating on our backs. When he ejaculated we no longer played this game.
When I was 12 my older brother invited me up to his room. When we got there he suggested we orally stimulate each other. I should go first. Not really understanding, I took his penis in my mouth and began to suck him. When he thought he was going to ejaculate, he told me and I stopped. He then told me he would not stimulate me and berrated me for being homosexual. I felt so bad that I had somehow done something wrong and offered to do anything to make it right.
My mother, later that year directed me in front her friend thje photographer. She had me take off my clothes. At different points of undress he took pictures. Finally, I was naked and he continued to take pictures. My mother told the photographer to cut the pictures down. I asked my mother what the meant and why. Meanwhile I my penis had become erect and I didn't know what was going on but I guess I was embarrassed. She said that the pictures would only be of my head to my shoulders. This was so I would not be embarrassed when I was older.
We moved from Detroit to Washington D. C. in January 1963. In February, I was sick and my mother had a friend of hers visit to take care of me. I was 13. I had a box of valentine chocolates that I wanted to send to my girlfriend in Detroit. He said he would take it to the post office for me. He then began to explain to me that they did this in Greece. and proceeded to lick my body. I decided that I was prostituting myself to get the service of getting the valentine mailed. He eventually reached my genitals and stimulated me to ejaculate in his mouth.
He would visit from time to time. Sometimes he would come up stairs to my bedroom and I went to bed. He would perform oral on me. Sometimes I tried to pretend I was asleep. Sometimes I prayed for God to stop this, make him leave me alone, but he didn't. After about two months of this, maybe four times, my mother was working at the table upstairs, and I was listening to Bob Dylan records in the basement.
He came down stairs and sat on the couch next to me. When I stood up, he stood next to me. He pushed down on my shoulders and I went down to my knees. I remember thinking that my mother must know what is going on and wanted me to do this. He suddenly had his hand on the back of my head, had his engorged penis in my mouth and was ejaculating, I was gagging, choking, and couldn't breath. Eventually he stopped. I had swallowed most of him, but he got a towel so I could wipe off what spilled out.
For his birthday he invited me to his house where he had german choclate cake. He had me lie down on a couch, poured some liquid in my crack and proceeded to sodomize me. I tried to move away, it hurt. He didnt care.
On another day, he came by the house when no one else was there. He stimulated me to ejaculate and then pushed me into a position to do the same to him. I hit him in the balls. He dramatically demonstrated how much I hurt him. I felt so guilty, that I sucked him to make him feel better. He did not ejaculate that time. He invited me to go with him to New York on an airplane. I had never been on an airplane and thought this would be good.
My parents would not let me go. They explained that he was a latent homosexual, at least my father thought so. I responded that he wasn't latent. My mother asked if I enjoyed being penetrated. I said no, IT HURT. She said then you are O K. That was the end of it I thought.
I August, on my ay home I saw his car in front of the house. I couldn't figure out where else to go, I was coming home from swimming practice and needed to shower. When I got in the shower, he joined me and rubbed his penis against me. Also up and down my crack I do not know if he ejaculated, but he did not penetrate me.
When I was 16 (after I had had my first experience with heterosexual sex)my mother explained to me her business partner was having difficulty with his sexuality. I translated this in my head that she wanted me to make myself available to him. He was over at the house we laydown on a bed, I help undress him, took him in my mouth and accepted his ejaculate. Later, when I was 17, he visited me in college and we did the same thing again.
Although these were my childhood sexual abuse experiences, the awareness that all of this was bizarre, was easy. When I was 37, a child my wife was a live in baby sitter for, came to visit. She was going back and forth between her parents trying to negotiate a reconcilliation between them to avoid divorce. It triggered my memory when I was 12 and my mother had me negotiating for my father to tell her he loved her.
I started to cry and feel the pain of that experience, and my powerlessness, even with the need to acomplish the task my mother assigned. I could not stop crying for days, and a friend of mine, who worked at the state mental hospital, referred me to a psychologist. He confronted me when I defended my mother as the innocent victim. When he broke that down and I described to photo actvities when I was 12 he explained that this was a form of incest. I began to feel so isolated, betrayed, and violated. Her responsibility with her friends and their roles, her flip response to my being sodomized, the dozens of times she "flashed" us, began to form a pattern for me. Not only did she not protect us from thew physical abuse of my father, but she had been active in setting me up, timne and again for sexual abuse, even if she never touched my genitals.
When I was 42, I came into AA and have been sober ever since. I was provided cognitive therapy by my health insurance (Kaiser). This did not help me heal, but taught me many good technologies for coping. I came to understand that my "need" to give and recieve oral sex from my wife (she found performing oral sex repugnant)was a method of feeling in control in sexual experiences.
When I was was about two years sober, I finally understood, that deciding how other people were going to perform sexual activities were not my decision, but their own. At three years sober, when my wife had basically stopped having sex with me (down to 4 times a year) we separated. After 25 years of marraige, it was over.
I am now in psychotherapy. I have been for almost 10 years, and I am just now begining to feel the emtional horror of my childhood sewxual experiences, it was not just that I was used and this act occured, but I was helpless. I had been abandoned. I was isolated alone and had no where to go for help. Some day, as I learn to permit my self to feel the emotional experience of my childhood, I will learn to experience the emotional experience of today. And I will be able to experience joy with my grand children.
Edited by ModTeam (12/19/12 01:36 PM)
Edit Reason: Trigger warning for descriptions of sexual positions and memories of abuse.