Going to try and open up for the first time......TRIGGER WARNING
Sportbilly
Registrant
So, I have been a member since 2011 and have never posted anything. I have always only read threads, forums and chats. Never responded because I do not know what to say. I would start typing and then delete it. Then I would avoid the website for some time. I am not entirely sure why. I was scared no one would believe me. I felt that my story would not matter. I thought "...everyone's story is far worse than mine, so why should I complain, I have no right to complain..".
I was in two chat rooms on Friday and yesterday and actually said something. Very kind and encouraging members told me I was brave...it doesn't quite feel brave yet...maybe that will come. Typing THOSE words made me feel very apprehensive and filled with anxiety. My heart was racing and beating so hard and it gave me flashbacks I had to switch my computer off. I just wanted to run.
So, today I said to myself: "self! just do it!!"
Well...F#@k this is hard. So my grandparents used to live with us. I only remember fragments of my childhood. almost like a puzzle. When a new memory manifests it often is after a recollection. My heart races, I smell a pipe and feel breathing on my shoulder. If it is a "big" puzzle piece I get a seizure and piss myself (sorry!). It is immensely embarrassing.
What I remember is that my grandfather smoked a pipe. He lost part of his pointer finger in some accident. He used to tell me to snuggle up with him in his bed and would push his erect penis against me while he tells me he loves me. I was his favorite. I think I was about 3. I remember that he would come into my bedroom when it was really dark. I'm unsure of how it would go but I would turn on my belly and then he would penetrate me. The pain was so much that I would pass out. I would wake up and I would have other pyjamas on. He would tell my parents I had a nightmare and I peed myself so he changed me. He sometimes would give me a bath and lay me on the bathroom floor and use THAT finger to penetrate me while ejaculating over me. All the time whispering that he loves me. It ended when he died.
Some memories are vivid. The smell of a cigar/pipe still makes me gag. His breath in my ear and over my shoulder. The gooeyness of ejaculate revolts me. I am a gay man and all though being gay and the things gay men should enjoy...and this sounds so stupid and trivial...and explicit and perhaps crass...but I used to have to know if my date/shag was circumcised as "he" was and it would freak me out and trigger, what I now know, was my ptsd. So stupid to actually see it in writing.
Not to mention actual intimacy. My "job" was to make you ejaculate and not be loved. That word used to send shivers down my spine. If anyone said those words to me then that would be the end of that path/relationship.
My sanity was sport. And I was good at it. Very good at it. Unfortunately I was in 8 different schools ( not because I was unruly-my father was an engineer). I ended up in boarding school at age 12 with a scholarship. I was painfully shy and kept myself to myself. played sport and did what was expected of me. Then one day, my sport teacher (who I admired a lot) and I came back from a competition. It was a weekend and most kids (co-ed boarding school ) had gone home for the weekend. He told me I can watch the '87 world track and field championships in his flat. I was so excited! I wanted to be an olympian. Had some orange juice and next thing I remember is I can not move. Laying on my stomach, tied up with him (sorry for the graphic) fucking me so hard that it tore my rectum. I ended in hospital and nothing happened. No one even asked what happened. How could I let it happen again, is something I struggle with....
I went home a few weeks later as it was summer holiday. My mother was very sick and by this time my brother and sister had left home and were in college.
One night my dad walked into the bathroom when I took a shower. He had a belt in one hand and his erect penis in the other. Told me to get on my knees and suck him off....I realized my purpose then. It happened a few more times after that...everytime was a little bit more violent...either before or after. Luckily he never penetrated me.
Now here I am today. And I am sorry to have said so much. Sorry whomever has to read this crap. sorry
I was in two chat rooms on Friday and yesterday and actually said something. Very kind and encouraging members told me I was brave...it doesn't quite feel brave yet...maybe that will come. Typing THOSE words made me feel very apprehensive and filled with anxiety. My heart was racing and beating so hard and it gave me flashbacks I had to switch my computer off. I just wanted to run.
So, today I said to myself: "self! just do it!!"
Well...F#@k this is hard. So my grandparents used to live with us. I only remember fragments of my childhood. almost like a puzzle. When a new memory manifests it often is after a recollection. My heart races, I smell a pipe and feel breathing on my shoulder. If it is a "big" puzzle piece I get a seizure and piss myself (sorry!). It is immensely embarrassing.
What I remember is that my grandfather smoked a pipe. He lost part of his pointer finger in some accident. He used to tell me to snuggle up with him in his bed and would push his erect penis against me while he tells me he loves me. I was his favorite. I think I was about 3. I remember that he would come into my bedroom when it was really dark. I'm unsure of how it would go but I would turn on my belly and then he would penetrate me. The pain was so much that I would pass out. I would wake up and I would have other pyjamas on. He would tell my parents I had a nightmare and I peed myself so he changed me. He sometimes would give me a bath and lay me on the bathroom floor and use THAT finger to penetrate me while ejaculating over me. All the time whispering that he loves me. It ended when he died.
Some memories are vivid. The smell of a cigar/pipe still makes me gag. His breath in my ear and over my shoulder. The gooeyness of ejaculate revolts me. I am a gay man and all though being gay and the things gay men should enjoy...and this sounds so stupid and trivial...and explicit and perhaps crass...but I used to have to know if my date/shag was circumcised as "he" was and it would freak me out and trigger, what I now know, was my ptsd. So stupid to actually see it in writing.
Not to mention actual intimacy. My "job" was to make you ejaculate and not be loved. That word used to send shivers down my spine. If anyone said those words to me then that would be the end of that path/relationship.
My sanity was sport. And I was good at it. Very good at it. Unfortunately I was in 8 different schools ( not because I was unruly-my father was an engineer). I ended up in boarding school at age 12 with a scholarship. I was painfully shy and kept myself to myself. played sport and did what was expected of me. Then one day, my sport teacher (who I admired a lot) and I came back from a competition. It was a weekend and most kids (co-ed boarding school ) had gone home for the weekend. He told me I can watch the '87 world track and field championships in his flat. I was so excited! I wanted to be an olympian. Had some orange juice and next thing I remember is I can not move. Laying on my stomach, tied up with him (sorry for the graphic) fucking me so hard that it tore my rectum. I ended in hospital and nothing happened. No one even asked what happened. How could I let it happen again, is something I struggle with....
I went home a few weeks later as it was summer holiday. My mother was very sick and by this time my brother and sister had left home and were in college.
One night my dad walked into the bathroom when I took a shower. He had a belt in one hand and his erect penis in the other. Told me to get on my knees and suck him off....I realized my purpose then. It happened a few more times after that...everytime was a little bit more violent...either before or after. Luckily he never penetrated me.
Now here I am today. And I am sorry to have said so much. Sorry whomever has to read this crap. sorry