This is me. (triggers)
Im sorry this is so long. It may have a lot of triggers. It started out one way and ended another. I have never told anyone this never have I let it out. I decided to leave it like it is. It is me, good or bad. I am learning to accept me as I am. I am posting here because this is where I feel safe with my gay friends and family. I trust you.
Its so confusing gay, straight, bi? It has taken a long time to get to where I am, wherever that is. I feel like my life is a large white sheet of paper, totally blank, and right in the middle is a red arrow with a posting You are here. Where the hell is here? Sexual identity is hard when you are a SA survivor. Ive given up trying to fix blame or have regrets. I am learning to accept myself, love myself for my uniqueness, regardless of how I got to be whom I am. I am working to remove the hate from my experiences and enjoy the good.
I am bisexual. I am gay. I am straight. My experiences have made me who I am. I dont want to hate myself anymore. My first experience was as a young boy, 9, when an older boy, 11 or 12, touched me. It felt good to feel his hands on me. Then he undid his pants and without thinking, I reached out to touch him. I knew this was wrong, yet I wanted to do it. Next he leaned over and began to suck me. The warmth and softness of his mouth was wonderful. I didnt suck him and he didnt ask me too. So, am I gay because I was touched at such a young age, an inappropriate age for such an experience, or am I gay because that is who I am? The next day I started giving sucking the other little boys in my neighborhood, maybe 5 to 10, all my age. I couldnt understand why they didnt like it like I did, why didnt they want to do it again and to suck me. This was something wonderful, yet they didnt care. Looking back I had to be gay and just didnt know what that was.
My next experience was with George. We had moved and I met a new friend. He was a grade ahead of me. I was now in 4th grade and he was in 5th. He was my first boyfriend. As much a boyfriend as you could have at that age. We quickly became sexually involved. He enjoyed giving and receiving. I had met someone who felt like me. He was also larger than I was and I enjoyed having him fuck me. I was too small to fuck him. I became a bottom. How do you become a bottom at the age of 10? We discovered anal sex all on our own, no one showed us. He was my boyfriend for two years. Then my family moved again. I missed him; I missed holding him, being close to him, lying in bed with him. I didnt think of him as a boyfriend or a lover. He was my friend and together, we shared our secret.
After that I would search out for other boys and when I became a teen I found young men, 3-8 years older than me. My want for boys fell sharply when I became 16. I discovered girls. This was a safe, normal outlet for my sexual needs. Then as an adult I again began to seek out men.
My real problems began while I was in 4th grade. It was while I was in fourth grade that I my SA began and would last for 5 years. This is what really added guilt to my life. George was wonderful, my abuser, Lawrence (Larry) Carrilho, was hell. He was nice, never forceful, but he was an adult and he was fucking with my mind, my since of trust and my childhood. I remember, I have never forgotten, never had a loss of memory. I remember every time, and since he repeated the abuse each time just like the first time, some of them tend to blend together as one big memory. My mother met him somehow and he offered me a job on Saturdays. He owned a small hotel with kitchens. On Saturday my mother would take me to him to help cleanup. I would pick up cigarette buts out of the planters and sweep and clean the walkways. The very first time I worked for him he waited until I did the work and then took me into a small hotel room. He sat me down and sat next to me. Immediately I knew this was weird. I didnt know what to do. Next he began to examine my arm and pushed my hand until it rested upon the bulge in his pants. I was petrified. I knew this was his penis and what was happening was wrong. The boy when I was 9 didnt scare me; this was freaking me out. Next he insisted that I needed a bath and undressed himself and me and took me into the shower. There he washed my back and penis while rubbing himself against my butt. This lasted until he couldnt stand it any longer and had me get out to dry off while he finished showering. When it was over and we were dressed he gave me $2.00 and took me back to my mother. I didnt know what to do I didnt do anything. The next week my mother took me back again and again and again for my job. Wasnt I a big boy. It was the same every week. After my work I needed a shower. I never resisted, I just did what he said to do. Later when I was 13 and able to climax I wouldnt give him the pleasure of having me climax. It wasnt something I did consciously, I just resisted. He would rub himself against me and, reaching around, he would rub me, for 15 or 20 minutes he would have me turn and face him, rub our penises together, then turn away and rub his penis between my butt cheeks. Once I almost climaxed, but fought it and waited until I got out of the shower. Sometimes he would let me steer his car. He would sit in the drivers seat and pull me close to him to steer while unzipping my pants to fondled me. I hated it all, yet I loved the feeling and his kind attention to me. My mother was very strict and my fatter didnt get involved. He was always nice to me, never raped me or forced me to touch him. All those years and I never touched him. It was his one act of sexual kindness. Once he did enter me while in the shower. It felt good but he pulled out. My only control was to stand there, with no reaction at all, good or bad, and just stare at the shower wall. I would go somewhere else, while my body betrayed me, and enjoyed his touching. He was a friend with my parents and I had to see him all the time. It finally ended when my family moved out of stat when I was in 9th grade. He once came to visit us when I was in 11th grade. He and his wife were visiting. I never said a word. I kept the secret. I didnt hate him, I didnt like him; I was numb no feelings about his abuse. I just did nothing. I just kept going back to him like a robot, a sex slave. Even today it is hard for me to get angry and hate him. I buried my feelings so deep that I still cant find them.
Later when I tried to have sex with girls I couldnt climax without a lot of work. It would take 15-30 minutes of intercourse before I could climax. Often I wasnt even able to get an erection. I was 17 and having ED problems! Once a girl tried to give me a BJ and it freaked me out. I lost my erection and panicked. I was humiliated and feared her telling anyone that I wasnt a man.
With boys I was OK, but girls frightened me. It wasnt until after I came out as gay and began to face my SA monster that I was able to begin to have a climax like a normal guy. I actually envied the guys that could climax after 4-8 minutes of sex. Only when I masturbated alone was I able to have a normal climax. Even now, I seem to enjoy masturbating alone rather than having sex. When I am with men I become the abused boy. I am there for them. I service their needs and have trouble getting an erection. When I have anal sex I want to be in control. I like being on top; I am in control. I enjoy seeing their face, seeing the enjoyment they are getting from what I am doing. I seem to have a great need to be sexually pleasing. Perhaps that is why I like masturbating alone, it frees me to be pleased. I am pleasing myself.
I have a great difficulty being friends with straight men, even my brother, but enjoy the friendship of gay men. I came out as gay and lived as gay (The most liberating event in my life.) for 5 years. I then went back to a heterosexual relationship. I am on my third marriage. My wife knows everything, and is very accepting. She accepts me as a bisexual, and knows of my preference for gay men, but Im sexually loyal to her. As I said, I am learning to accept myself. I love hugs from men, like softer men (muscle men remind me of the mean jocks in high school), like being a bottom, enjoy oral sex, I am not a size queen- I actually like smaller men, Given a cute guy and a gorgeous woman Ill check out the guy first. I love my wife dearly, I love my children, and Ill never be ashamed again of being gay, of my abuse.
I don't know why I told all of this - there is so much more. I am no longer shamed. thank you for your love and kindness, thank you to all my gay brothers.
Mark R.
Its so confusing gay, straight, bi? It has taken a long time to get to where I am, wherever that is. I feel like my life is a large white sheet of paper, totally blank, and right in the middle is a red arrow with a posting You are here. Where the hell is here? Sexual identity is hard when you are a SA survivor. Ive given up trying to fix blame or have regrets. I am learning to accept myself, love myself for my uniqueness, regardless of how I got to be whom I am. I am working to remove the hate from my experiences and enjoy the good.
I am bisexual. I am gay. I am straight. My experiences have made me who I am. I dont want to hate myself anymore. My first experience was as a young boy, 9, when an older boy, 11 or 12, touched me. It felt good to feel his hands on me. Then he undid his pants and without thinking, I reached out to touch him. I knew this was wrong, yet I wanted to do it. Next he leaned over and began to suck me. The warmth and softness of his mouth was wonderful. I didnt suck him and he didnt ask me too. So, am I gay because I was touched at such a young age, an inappropriate age for such an experience, or am I gay because that is who I am? The next day I started giving sucking the other little boys in my neighborhood, maybe 5 to 10, all my age. I couldnt understand why they didnt like it like I did, why didnt they want to do it again and to suck me. This was something wonderful, yet they didnt care. Looking back I had to be gay and just didnt know what that was.
My next experience was with George. We had moved and I met a new friend. He was a grade ahead of me. I was now in 4th grade and he was in 5th. He was my first boyfriend. As much a boyfriend as you could have at that age. We quickly became sexually involved. He enjoyed giving and receiving. I had met someone who felt like me. He was also larger than I was and I enjoyed having him fuck me. I was too small to fuck him. I became a bottom. How do you become a bottom at the age of 10? We discovered anal sex all on our own, no one showed us. He was my boyfriend for two years. Then my family moved again. I missed him; I missed holding him, being close to him, lying in bed with him. I didnt think of him as a boyfriend or a lover. He was my friend and together, we shared our secret.
After that I would search out for other boys and when I became a teen I found young men, 3-8 years older than me. My want for boys fell sharply when I became 16. I discovered girls. This was a safe, normal outlet for my sexual needs. Then as an adult I again began to seek out men.
My real problems began while I was in 4th grade. It was while I was in fourth grade that I my SA began and would last for 5 years. This is what really added guilt to my life. George was wonderful, my abuser, Lawrence (Larry) Carrilho, was hell. He was nice, never forceful, but he was an adult and he was fucking with my mind, my since of trust and my childhood. I remember, I have never forgotten, never had a loss of memory. I remember every time, and since he repeated the abuse each time just like the first time, some of them tend to blend together as one big memory. My mother met him somehow and he offered me a job on Saturdays. He owned a small hotel with kitchens. On Saturday my mother would take me to him to help cleanup. I would pick up cigarette buts out of the planters and sweep and clean the walkways. The very first time I worked for him he waited until I did the work and then took me into a small hotel room. He sat me down and sat next to me. Immediately I knew this was weird. I didnt know what to do. Next he began to examine my arm and pushed my hand until it rested upon the bulge in his pants. I was petrified. I knew this was his penis and what was happening was wrong. The boy when I was 9 didnt scare me; this was freaking me out. Next he insisted that I needed a bath and undressed himself and me and took me into the shower. There he washed my back and penis while rubbing himself against my butt. This lasted until he couldnt stand it any longer and had me get out to dry off while he finished showering. When it was over and we were dressed he gave me $2.00 and took me back to my mother. I didnt know what to do I didnt do anything. The next week my mother took me back again and again and again for my job. Wasnt I a big boy. It was the same every week. After my work I needed a shower. I never resisted, I just did what he said to do. Later when I was 13 and able to climax I wouldnt give him the pleasure of having me climax. It wasnt something I did consciously, I just resisted. He would rub himself against me and, reaching around, he would rub me, for 15 or 20 minutes he would have me turn and face him, rub our penises together, then turn away and rub his penis between my butt cheeks. Once I almost climaxed, but fought it and waited until I got out of the shower. Sometimes he would let me steer his car. He would sit in the drivers seat and pull me close to him to steer while unzipping my pants to fondled me. I hated it all, yet I loved the feeling and his kind attention to me. My mother was very strict and my fatter didnt get involved. He was always nice to me, never raped me or forced me to touch him. All those years and I never touched him. It was his one act of sexual kindness. Once he did enter me while in the shower. It felt good but he pulled out. My only control was to stand there, with no reaction at all, good or bad, and just stare at the shower wall. I would go somewhere else, while my body betrayed me, and enjoyed his touching. He was a friend with my parents and I had to see him all the time. It finally ended when my family moved out of stat when I was in 9th grade. He once came to visit us when I was in 11th grade. He and his wife were visiting. I never said a word. I kept the secret. I didnt hate him, I didnt like him; I was numb no feelings about his abuse. I just did nothing. I just kept going back to him like a robot, a sex slave. Even today it is hard for me to get angry and hate him. I buried my feelings so deep that I still cant find them.
Later when I tried to have sex with girls I couldnt climax without a lot of work. It would take 15-30 minutes of intercourse before I could climax. Often I wasnt even able to get an erection. I was 17 and having ED problems! Once a girl tried to give me a BJ and it freaked me out. I lost my erection and panicked. I was humiliated and feared her telling anyone that I wasnt a man.
With boys I was OK, but girls frightened me. It wasnt until after I came out as gay and began to face my SA monster that I was able to begin to have a climax like a normal guy. I actually envied the guys that could climax after 4-8 minutes of sex. Only when I masturbated alone was I able to have a normal climax. Even now, I seem to enjoy masturbating alone rather than having sex. When I am with men I become the abused boy. I am there for them. I service their needs and have trouble getting an erection. When I have anal sex I want to be in control. I like being on top; I am in control. I enjoy seeing their face, seeing the enjoyment they are getting from what I am doing. I seem to have a great need to be sexually pleasing. Perhaps that is why I like masturbating alone, it frees me to be pleased. I am pleasing myself.
I have a great difficulty being friends with straight men, even my brother, but enjoy the friendship of gay men. I came out as gay and lived as gay (The most liberating event in my life.) for 5 years. I then went back to a heterosexual relationship. I am on my third marriage. My wife knows everything, and is very accepting. She accepts me as a bisexual, and knows of my preference for gay men, but Im sexually loyal to her. As I said, I am learning to accept myself. I love hugs from men, like softer men (muscle men remind me of the mean jocks in high school), like being a bottom, enjoy oral sex, I am not a size queen- I actually like smaller men, Given a cute guy and a gorgeous woman Ill check out the guy first. I love my wife dearly, I love my children, and Ill never be ashamed again of being gay, of my abuse.
I don't know why I told all of this - there is so much more. I am no longer shamed. thank you for your love and kindness, thank you to all my gay brothers.
Mark R.
In being honest, we grow stronger together.