My story... long... triggering..... words**TRIGGER WARNING**
*******TRIGGER WARNING*******TRIGGER WARNING****
Hello All,
It all started at an all male party at a house down the street. I was four and a half and my father passed me around like a party favor. It started out as fellatio. Parties after that went a bit farther. I remember that there were all age groups from teenagers to 40-50 year olds and in the middleof it was my father.
When he wasn't doing me publicly he did me in
private. He used to have me pull my underwear up as far as it could go and dance for him. Sometimes he masterbated and sometimes he would throw me down. It went like this until I was eight and then my parents got a divorce and he moved out of state.
I thought that was the end of it as my mother became engaged to a guy that was a real nice and treated us well. HAH.....
Cary never sexually abused us (just a couple of his friends). He did however physically and emotionally abused us. He use to torture me by putting me in the dark closet and couldn't come out fot two sometimes three days. And if I used the bathroom on myself he would beat me with a split cane, a split belt or his fist. Did I mention that he was a black belt in both judo and karate and taught classes and competed?
I was his favorite because I was the oldest. He threw me through a window one time when I stood up to him when he was beating my 3 year old brother because he wet the bed.
He used to come in the bathroom when I was taking a bath and hold my head down in the water untill I nearly drowned.
I would go to school with cuts and bruises especially to my backside. The teacher and the principal would ask me what did I do now. How's that for support?
My mother was helpless to stop him as she was just as abused. He finally died many years after of excruitiating pain from cancer. I can't go piss on his grave because they had him cremated. DAMN.
It was decided by Cary that my brother Jeff and I would move out of state to be with my father. He said he couldn't do anything with me.
Lo and behold he said he missed me. Things were ok at first but it didn't take long. He signed me up to a boy scout troop and you guessed it, the scoutmaster was into me as well.He used my friendship with his son to his advantage. I still didn't raise a stink. My grades were bad in 6th grade and went to pot in 7th.
My father took me to a "therapist" and the t said I needed more formal training. He wanted me to go to the nearest Boystown. My father said no way and took a job at a "commune" and everybody went with him. They always blamed me for that. The abuse from him stopped though because he found fresh meat in the commune.
I had started smoking when I was ten and started pot when I was eleven now at this commune I found a whole host of drugs. I found the god smack and od'ed when I was 13. Almost died that time.
After this little episode I was shipped to Arkansas to a sister commune and more sex than I could shake a stick at. The "preacher" was a pedophile and you know who he took a liking to. There were also several older females that wanted to show this boy on what it means to be a man.
After my 14th birthday I get shipped out to another sister commune in NY and you know who was there. He requested me. He bought me a lobster dinner like that was supposed to make it even between us. I didn't see him for several years after that.
My mother finally found us and brought us home. It was extremely good to see her and I cried like a baby.
I was still doing drugs at a maddening pace and didn't take long to find the local drug people. Over the course of the next years I had od'ed several times and have been in detox at least six times. It took a threat of real (4 years) jail time and a court order for me to seek treatment out of the area where I spent two years learning on how to live drug free.
I still feel ashamed of what I had to do to get drugs. I would have sex with anyone to make money, mostly older guys who like the slim blonde haired type.
It was during the latter days of my treatment program that I met one of the most beautiful people I had ever met. My wife. We have been married now for twenty eight years and she is my best friend.I still have never told her of the abuse.
After 40 years of seeing various "professionals" I have a diagnosis of bipolar with schizoeffetive disorder. I have had several hospital stays and on a rather large "cocktail".
Oh, the SOB moved to Mexico. I should warn the government down there.
I know I won't ever be ok but my days are brighter now.
Thanks guys for listening.
r
Hello All,
It all started at an all male party at a house down the street. I was four and a half and my father passed me around like a party favor. It started out as fellatio. Parties after that went a bit farther. I remember that there were all age groups from teenagers to 40-50 year olds and in the middleof it was my father.
When he wasn't doing me publicly he did me in
private. He used to have me pull my underwear up as far as it could go and dance for him. Sometimes he masterbated and sometimes he would throw me down. It went like this until I was eight and then my parents got a divorce and he moved out of state.
I thought that was the end of it as my mother became engaged to a guy that was a real nice and treated us well. HAH.....
Cary never sexually abused us (just a couple of his friends). He did however physically and emotionally abused us. He use to torture me by putting me in the dark closet and couldn't come out fot two sometimes three days. And if I used the bathroom on myself he would beat me with a split cane, a split belt or his fist. Did I mention that he was a black belt in both judo and karate and taught classes and competed?
I was his favorite because I was the oldest. He threw me through a window one time when I stood up to him when he was beating my 3 year old brother because he wet the bed.
He used to come in the bathroom when I was taking a bath and hold my head down in the water untill I nearly drowned.
I would go to school with cuts and bruises especially to my backside. The teacher and the principal would ask me what did I do now. How's that for support?
My mother was helpless to stop him as she was just as abused. He finally died many years after of excruitiating pain from cancer. I can't go piss on his grave because they had him cremated. DAMN.
It was decided by Cary that my brother Jeff and I would move out of state to be with my father. He said he couldn't do anything with me.
Lo and behold he said he missed me. Things were ok at first but it didn't take long. He signed me up to a boy scout troop and you guessed it, the scoutmaster was into me as well.He used my friendship with his son to his advantage. I still didn't raise a stink. My grades were bad in 6th grade and went to pot in 7th.
My father took me to a "therapist" and the t said I needed more formal training. He wanted me to go to the nearest Boystown. My father said no way and took a job at a "commune" and everybody went with him. They always blamed me for that. The abuse from him stopped though because he found fresh meat in the commune.
I had started smoking when I was ten and started pot when I was eleven now at this commune I found a whole host of drugs. I found the god smack and od'ed when I was 13. Almost died that time.
After this little episode I was shipped to Arkansas to a sister commune and more sex than I could shake a stick at. The "preacher" was a pedophile and you know who he took a liking to. There were also several older females that wanted to show this boy on what it means to be a man.
After my 14th birthday I get shipped out to another sister commune in NY and you know who was there. He requested me. He bought me a lobster dinner like that was supposed to make it even between us. I didn't see him for several years after that.
My mother finally found us and brought us home. It was extremely good to see her and I cried like a baby.
I was still doing drugs at a maddening pace and didn't take long to find the local drug people. Over the course of the next years I had od'ed several times and have been in detox at least six times. It took a threat of real (4 years) jail time and a court order for me to seek treatment out of the area where I spent two years learning on how to live drug free.
I still feel ashamed of what I had to do to get drugs. I would have sex with anyone to make money, mostly older guys who like the slim blonde haired type.
It was during the latter days of my treatment program that I met one of the most beautiful people I had ever met. My wife. We have been married now for twenty eight years and she is my best friend.I still have never told her of the abuse.
After 40 years of seeing various "professionals" I have a diagnosis of bipolar with schizoeffetive disorder. I have had several hospital stays and on a rather large "cocktail".
Oh, the SOB moved to Mexico. I should warn the government down there.
I know I won't ever be ok but my days are brighter now.
Thanks guys for listening.
r